


Forced Entry

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Future, Captain Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Futuristic, Hot Sex, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, IN SPACE!, M/M, Psychic Sam, Romance, Sci-Fi, Science Fiction, Secrets, Sexy Times, Space Opera, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:07:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 84,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Winchester doesn’t like people messing around in his mind. He’s had some run-ins with telepaths and he hates them all. Too bad he's been paired up to work with Sam Wesson, one of the highest rated Telepaths in the Tel Unit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Banner by Charlotte  
> Co-written with Charlotte (Cha)

He had not stepped foot on Beta Centauri, the space station that was a hub of activity, neutral territory for Earthlings and beings from the known parts of the universe, since graduating six years ago. It was one of the largest space stations and boasted a large economy, merchants, professionals, a banking industry, diplomats, you name it, you could find them there. It was located near busy shipping routes, which also made it a popular place for space weary travelers to refuel and for de-stressing.

Seeing as this was not a voluntary visit, Dean Winchester, a Captain of Earth's Space Corps, was not at all happy to walk the wide halls of the station, even as he headed to its famous bar, Encounters. Dammit, the last thing he wanted... needed... was some telepathic-psychiatrist fool trying to muck around inside his brain. By now, you'd think the Corps would get that his brain was off-limits, that no telepath, no matter how experienced, could get past the blocks he'd put up years ago and now claimed to be unable to break down. Anything anyone wanted to know, they could damned well just ask him.

A couple of cadets moved to the side and saluted. He barely acknowledged them. Right now, all he wanted was a strong drink and a warm willing body. It was that or stay up all night, angry about the poking and prodding to come tomorrow, or thinking about... Right, that was another thing good old fashioned whiskey could help with.

He stepped onto the escalators that went up three stories and right into Encounters. The large circular bar was lit up from behind in neon blue, as were parts of the glassy walls. Smoke occasionally blew out of the floors, lending the place a mysterious air. There were also tables, for those wanting to eat light fare. Mostly, like the name suggested, it was a hook up joint.

Scanning the room, he chose a place at the bar, right where it curved around and he could see both entrances. Sitting down near a view screen, he motioned the bar tender with a jerk of his chin. "Two dopple shots, and a whiskey, straight." He slid his card over to the bar tender.

A few moments later, the three drinks were lined up in front of him, and the bar tender gave him back his card. "Here you go Captain Winchester. Anything else I can help you with? Know how to use the view screen?"

"I got it," Dean dismissed him with a look. Taking one of the shot glasses, he downed it, making a face as the liquid burned all the way down. Then he turned to the right and flicked the view screen on. Choices... so many of them. People looking to hook up. He could choose from people at the bar, or elsewhere on the station. By sex, by hair color, by sign, career. He started sliding his finger over the touch screen, not sure what he was looking for.

*

Sam had been reading data files all day. More specifically, the personnel files of one Cpt. Dean Winchester. A complex man. It was Sam's suspicion that Winchester would end up trying to dull his anger with an impersonal sexual encounter. A pleased smiled grew on his face when he glanced over at a man sitting at the bar to find him a perfect match for the digital image flashing on his wrist band. He tapped the screen and the image disappeared. Sam was good at his job but it always amused him when he could pin someone's behavior down so specifically.

He moved through the bar quickly, winding his tall, lithe frame through the crowded club. His eyes moved over the crowd, just like always and he opened his mind. Emotions washed over him, faint, Sam didn't allow it to become overwhelming. There was no one in the crowd who presented an immediate threat. He wandered closer and sat a couple of stools away from Winchester. Sam’s powers worked on a simple principle. Like a walkie talkie, if Sam was touching someone then he would be able to perceive their emotions clearly. In fact, it was generally almost impossible for people to hide things from him. The further the physical distance from his subject, the fainter their emotions became. His instinct told him that Winchester would want to initiate a meeting with any potential partner. He used it to his advantage and settled on the stool, slipping his coat off.

Sam had thought this would be a standard job until he'd read Winchester's file. A military officer, traumatized by an assignment, reach him, assist him to process what happened. Simple. But, Captain Dean Winchester was a challenge. Sam was well known in his field as a good choice for someone who was hard to reach. By the age of four Sam had been identified as a level four psychic, suitable for Psychic Interventionist training. The highest ranking. By eight years old he was in the academy and by twelve, Sam could read the emotions of any subject he was exposed to. By sixteen he was working with U.S.E. (Union of Scientific Explorers) on First contact missions with potential alien races.

Sam had been quite proud of his accomplishments when he'd been asked to join the Tel Unit. He was the youngest member by far but his unorthodox methods of learning about his clients or subjects had been ruffling some feathers. Sam liked to meet people in a more natural environment, learn what they were like when they were unguarded. Often, an initial meeting would provide Sam far more access to a client's emotions than a scheduled appointment. The problem, by the Tel unit's standard, was that Sam walked a fine line between ethical and not. Obviously, in a world where psychics were appreciated for their skills - there was an obvious need to protect people from non-consensual intrusions. Sam justified it - because he'd always been more inclined to just receive what emotions were radiating from people rather than pulling. Pulling, Sam reserved for tough cases.

Sam ordered a whiskey, straight up and handed his card to the bartender.

Flipping through the pictures, Dean looked across the room where a blonde depicted in the picture was standing talking to her friends, and every once in a while, answering propositions on the view screen next to her. He decided she laughed too loud and too much. And she was too soft. Maybe that was the problem; every picture he was looking at... no one had an edge to them.

Lifting the shot glass, he knocked it back, and lifted his fingers to indicate he wanted two more. How many would it take to drown out the voices? How many to get him to a place where he was maybe less picky? Taking a couple sips of his whiskey, he went back to the view screen, clearing his prior choices, and touching the 'male' category. There had to be someone who'd appeal to him, one person on this big fucking station. Dean started to flick his finger across the screen, barely looking up when his drinks arrived, and his card was snatched up again.

Sam's drink arrived quickly and he turned it on the black granite bar. His finger tapped gently on the rim of the crystal, the latest trend, antique glass. Obviously Winchester had some money to burn, the kind of club with a granite bar and crystal glasses was probably on the highest end in terms of entertainment value. Sighing, Sam propped his foot up on the stool beside him, he opened his mind further, seeking out Winchester. It was strange, he frowned, the man was well-guarded. There had been no notation in Winchester's file regarding any training that would give him the ability to block his emotions from detection.

He turned on his stool a little, eyes traveling around the club as he surreptitiously glanced at Winchester. He was a handsome man, striking, bold features, green eyes. Sam smiled softly, Tel Unit or not, he'd always had a weakness for green eyes. A frown slipped on to his face again, he could read nothing from Winchester. Sam hoped this wasn't going to be a long intervention. He knew the man had been involved in a traumatic event, but in keeping with Sam's usual process, he'd requested not to be informed of the incident itself.

Dean had drained the next two shot glasses as well, and when the bar tender came by, he said, "times like this, I wish I smoked. Couple more." Putting his hand in front of his mouth, he coughed and looked away from the view screen. Feeling the weight of someone's gaze, he turned his head slightly and pinpointed the source. Tall. Well dressed. Strong jaw, sensual mouth... He leaned a little, not bothering to hide his scrutiny, yeah... built. His eyes meeting the man's, he nodded to the empty seat next to him, inviting him over.

Sam nodded and shifted his foot back down sliding his drink closer and moving to the stool next to the other man. He left his jacket on the other stool, wouldn't hurt with Winchester to imply that he was so casual he might not even be interested. This man was definitely not looking for anything permanent or emotionally draining. He turned and smiled, letting his hair fall down across his eyes.

Dean pushed one of the new shot glasses in front of the guy, and introduced himself. "Dean Winchester," and looked expectantly at him.

Tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment, Sam smiled softly, "Samuel ... Sam." Wrapping long fingers around the shot glass he held it up to Dean and tipped it back. "Thank-you." Still nothing. Sam tilted his head to the side, tongue running over his lip to catch the remains of the drink. "That was good," he smiled. He concentrated, focusing in on Dean. The only thing Sam could sense was a subtle disinterest in most things, not in Sam. His smile grew, showing his dimples, he'd been told he had a great smile.

As he evaluated Sam, Dean knew he was all the things that Dean wasn't. Open. Cheerful. Probably talked a lot in the morning. Maybe if he talked him into his bed, he'd make sure he wasn't around when Dean was having his first coffee. He lifted his chin in a nod, deciding right there and then, yeah... he would take this guy to bed tonight. "I was gonna complain they're watered down, if I hadn't seen him pour it myself," Dean shrugged. "So... what are you doing here?"

"Looking around," Sam let the comment's vagueness stand, his eyes meeting Dean's easily. Sam thought it was unfortunate that he was to meet with Dean professionally in the morning. "I'm here for an appointment tomorrow, not much to do tonight. He picked up his glass and took a drink, trailing the fingers of his other hand through the ring of moisture. He didn't need any of his Tel Unit training to know that Dean was a man of few words and expected even fewer from the people in his life. "You?" The question hung between them for a moment. Sam sensed the slightest touch of desire from Dean. At least he could read something without pulling.

"Dude... place is called Encounters," he raised his brow as if Sam should know, then he lifted his whiskey glass and took a sip, his eyes never leaving Sam's. Something about him... yeah, it was more than the fact they'd be sleeping together by the end of the night. Something in his eyes. Dean ran a hand over his face, deciding that whatever it was, if he'd seen the guy somewhere some time, it didn't really matter.

"So you're here... just one night?" That made it convenient. "Alone?" Dean found his gaze straying to Sam's finger circling the glass, so he took the opportunity to check for a ring.

"Alone," Sam agreed, wishing he wasn't in the club on work-related business. "You're in the Corps." It wasn't a question, the man was wearing a uniform after all. "You people aren't normally up here - special occasion?" He flashed a crooked grin at Dean, noticing the sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks. Sam got a flash of reluctant pride, sad, he thought, to be proud of something you did and yet, somehow, feel undeserving. He frowned down at his drink - unaccustomed to being affected by the emotions he sensed. There was something ... unusual about Dean.

Screams filled Dean's mind, echoing, booming over loud speakers, then there was the absolute silence of space. Blinking away the images, he took a few controlled breaths, then a long drink, swallowing hard. Yeah, he really needed to get laid; it would drown out his thoughts. "Guess you could say that. Classified, sorry," he shrugged as if he didn't have a care in the world. "You do get quite a lot of cadets; they come here from the academy, to blow off steam."

The bar tender returned, but Dean shook his head. The moment the man left, he turned to Sam. "So, how about it? You wanna go and blow off some steam with me?" His gaze dropped to Sam's lips and he leaned closer. "I have a feeling neither of us would regret it."

"I think you're right," Sam turned and met Dean's gaze leaning forward slightly, fingers trailing across Dean's muscular thigh. He allowed himself the one touch, and blinked a few times at the flood of need he felt from Dean. He swallowed and licked his lips, "I know that I wouldn't regret it." He watched as Dean's eyes darkened, knowing his own eyes probably reflected the same desire. "But..." he sat back, taking a deep breath, "I'm unable to ... blow off some steam with you .. tonight." He hadn't intended to pause, hadn't intended to make it sound as though there might be another time, if he were honest though? He would leave with the man right now without a second thought.

Frowning, Dean looked at Sam's hand. Just one touch and ... yeah, his entire body was thrumming. After that, this wasn't the answer he'd expected. Not from the way had been looking at him, and not from his body language. He licked his lips and leaned in closer, close enough where he could smell Sam's light after shave, and feel the warmth radiating from his body. "There is no 'other time.' It's now or never."

Sam felt his body stiffen as Dean drew closer and he took a calming breath. "Then I suppose we will both have something to regret, won't we?" He gazed into Dean's eyes, so very green. For the briefest moment, Sam felt something other than desire, something almost familiar. Shaking it off, he pushed up from the stool. "It was nice to meet you, Dean." His smile was warm, Dean wasn't used to being the one being left - he was much more comfortable doing the leaving. Sam picked up his jacket and walked toward the stairs. The next time he met Dean ought to be quite interesting.

Narrowing his gaze, Dean watched as Sam walked out on him. That sonovabitch had just wasted 20 minutes of his time. As he got up, and the bar tender offered a portable view screen, Dean just waved him off. He hadn't seen anything that interested him, and the way his luck was running lately, he was only half surprised at how the night turned out. Still, he could have sworn...

Standing up, he drank the rest of his drink... no reason to waste good liquor, though he really, really didn't need to be visualizing those eyes... he wasn't gonna waste another minute on that guy, not another minute.

* * *

Clean shaven, uniform pressed and crisp, shoes shined and looking as sharp as he possibly could, Dean had arrived for his forced appointment ten minutes early. He'd been shown to an office in a suite of offices that were clearly rented out like motel rooms, or at least it was clear to him. This room he was now sitting in, for example, was your typical telepath's or psychic vampire's... well that's what he called the bastards... office. Nice couch, a desk, some books on the shelves and pieces of art. But no diplomas on the wall, no permanent electronic equipment, no used pens and stickies on that desk. It was a sterile room.

It was as sterile as the information they would try to pull out of him, he decided. He did not need this or want it ... some idiot civilian rolling around in his head. At least he was confident that they couldn't get in. No one had, not since he's been 13. He'd slammed his mind shut one day, and all the poking and prodding the psychs his dad sent him to did no good, and they'd given up.

Why didn't they get that he did not need any Goddamned analyzing? Bad things happened in space. He'd fucked up, a bad thing happened, it was over. He didn't need help Goddamit.

He looked at his watch, and already he was pissed off. This Dr.... he hadn't even been given his or her name; they were already four minutes late.

Running a hand through his mess of sandy brown hair, Sam took a deep breath and opened the door, striding into the room. "Hello, Dean." He smiled and held out his hand, "Samuel Wesson, Tel unit ID374Delta - would you like to input and verify or are you prepared to take my word that I am who I say I am?" He extended his hand a little more, waiting. The hostility was an interesting contrast to the nothing of the night before.

Dean's gaze clashed openly with Sam's. Very quickly, he put everything together. Last night hadn't been a chance encounter, and this bastard he'd almost taken to bed had never been interested to start with. He didn't bother with shaking hands or verifying anything. "Disqualify yourself from this misguided intervention, right now, or I will put in a complaint for tampering with a patient," he said through gritted teeth.

Sam's smile softened. "I do understand the way you feel about this, genuinely," Sam sighed, "but nothing I did last night was in contravention of Tel Unit protocols. It's entirely up to each psi practitioner whether or not we have any anonymous interaction with a client previous to our first arranged engagement." Sam tilted his head and waited for the news to filter through Dean's defenses. "Believe me, Dean; I've studied the protocols better than anyone. I have a slight penchant for being, unconventional." He settled in the chair across from Dean's, "many of my colleagues may have even attempted a pull in a public place, I don't do that. I think it's an invasion." Sam got comfortable, shrugging off his jacket, "would you like to sit, Dean?"

"No, I would not like to sit." A muscle throbbed in Dean's jaw as he did just that. He'd argued up and down with his superiors and there had been no way out of this. Direct orders. Damn the man, for more reasons than one. He hated getting caught with his pants down, and that's what had happened. He hadn't suspected Sam for even a fraction of a second, which... yeah, that in and of itself was odd.

Dean gripped the arms of the chair. "This is another complete waste of my time."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Sam could feel nothing but hostility and anger. It wasn't surprising. His strategy in seeking Dean out before their appointment was working so far. Just as he'd thought, Dean's defenses were marginally affected by his anger. He was going to be a tough nut to crack though. Sam smiled, and made a mental note to find out where that expression came from.

"So - there are two ways we can go about this. I read in your file that you've met with Tel unit in the past. It doesn't seem to have been very productive, probably why they sent me," he muttered the last part almost under his breath. Sometimes, Sam wished he could get chosen to deal with the kids who had been abandoned by their parents rather than full grown men who'd had a life-time of practice at learning how to keep him distant. "I can do a passive read with your assistance. If you're willing to just let me share your mind. Or, I can do a pull." Sam looked up and met the blazing eyes of his client. "Are you familiar with what a pull consists of, Dean?"

"You're the psychic, you tell me what I'm going to choose." He raised his chin, irritated that this man didn't seem intimidated at all.

Sam shrugged and unsnapped his wrist band. "Pull it is then. Would you like to take ... your ... any of your ... stuff off?" Sam smiled. The other man was wearing full dress uniform, much more than Sam would ever wear willingly.

"No." After the word was out, he realized the room was overheated. Bet it was Wesson's 'unconventional' technique. It wouldn't do him any good though. "Let's just get this over with." I don't want to waste another minute of my time on you.

Raising his eyebrows Sam settled back in the chair, "fair enough." It really was a shame that he would never get to enjoy Dean's company. He was an interesting man. Sam couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. He cleared his throat. "Are you ready?"

Was he trying to irritate him some more? All those smiles, the acting like this was a voluntary consultation when Dean couldn't wait to get the hell out of here. Sniffing, he merely waited. The silence was a little awkward, but Dean didn't give a shit. This whole damned thing was awkward.

When Sam initially leaned in toward him, Dean didn't pull back. For the space of a heartbeat, it felt like last night... safe. Then he remembered this was one of the bloodsuckers, and sat back as far as he could, eyes drilling into Sam's.

Sam closed his eyes and focused. Dean provided a shockingly easy target, the man's anger and resentment was like a beacon. The smiled faded from Sam's face and he opened his eyes again and leaned further forward, staring into those green eyes. They were a little distracting at first. Sam had once described his gift as though it was like having the ability to stand close enough to someone to feel the heat radiating off their body. When Sam let his mind go, he could feel what other people felt, often became quite absorbed in their emotions. It wasn't unheard of for Sam to feel sad himself, feel ill, and want something he had never known he wanted. The walls, walls like the ones Dean had managed to build, were tricky. Of all the people in the unit though, Sam had the most success at slipping through them. His secret was to wait, lean on the walls, and not push. He could never quite describe what he did - but it seemed to work.

Sam tested, running his mind along Dean's. As always there were things that resided well outside the protected part of Dean's thoughts: his work, his animosity toward Sam, hatred of Tel Unit in general, he liked Sam's lips, had wanted to kiss him. Sam beamed a smile at Dean then licked his lips for good measure. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to leave this appointment with many more things to smile about. "I wanted to kiss you last night too," he said never breaking his lock on Dean's eyes.

Dean jerked back. He was reading him. This man was doing what no other bloodsucker had in years, he was reading him. "Yeah well, I'm over it," he responded, trying desperately to slam his mind shut. This hadn't happened before. He'd thought no one could slip through, no one.

The other man's thoughts and feelings wavered momentarily and Sam began to feel. It was a bit vague at first, and for once, Sam had more images at first than feelings. There were a lot of people, and anguish. It was heart-breaking. Sam's smile disappeared quickly, replaced by a frown, his eyes narrowing. He pulled. Contrary to what most people thought, Sam didn't get any enjoyment out of pulling emotion, it just felt wrong. This time, it felt worse. For some reason, Sam felt unsettled, as though there were more to his connection with Dean than what he was forcing. It was strange. And suddenly, as his mind wandered, he was through to a different place. He watched Dean's face as it slowly registered the intrusion. The ship, the trauma. This was why Sam had been brought to see Dean.

Feeling Sam deep inside his memories now, unwilling to believe the truth, Dean sucked in a breath of air. His knuckles started to turn white as he concentrated, wanting Sam out of his mind. And yet... he could feel a tug, and another, and was powerless to stop it. Sam was sifting through his mind, dammit.

He'd been on leave, but volunteered to pilot a galaxy class subspace vessel taking critically needed supplies, including a vaccine to deal with the deadly outbreak of space plague, to a newly colonized planet. Sitting around on his ass just wasn't a Winchester thing. Everything should have been routine, and it was, until he was alerted to a distress signal from a large malfunctioning passenger ship that was slowly being dragged into the gravitational pull of a planet.

Dean tried to pull his mind back, take back the territory Sam was gaining, fucking violating. His chest rose and fell, but his mind ... it was Sam's for the time being.

"Two hundred eighty nine people? What about your escape vessels?"

"Damaged."

Dean wiped his face with his hand. He was looking at a sea of faces, begging, shouting to go with him. Even after jettisoning non-essential cargo, all he could take was twelve.

Fights broke out. People started drawing lots, arguing about who won. The small crew could hardly hold the crowd of desperate people back, and looking at the dials on the wall, Dean could tell the ship was falling at an escalating pace. He would have to detach his vessel quickly, if he was going to get anyone to safety.

"Enough," he shouted. Some listened, some didn't. He started walking around the large ship, pointing, choosing people. "You, you, you," he walked a few more rows, felt a woman wrap her arms around his leg, begging, screaming. Bending over, he forced her to release him, felt her tears on his hand, forced himself not to react.

"You, and you."

"What about my sister?" The young boy asked.

Dean looked at her and saw she was an adult, shook his head no, and cringed at the shouts of "what about my sister... why not my sister." And he could hear the sister pushing the young boy to leave.

"On the ship," he told the children he'd selected. Some of them he had to tear out of their mothers' arms, as they struggled to stay with their parents.

"Where's the kid, the boy with the sister, where is he? Last chance..." Dean almost ... almost felt tears in his eyes. He didn't insist the boy come along. "Good luck," he whispered, and walked off the deck, pushing the kids he was taking to run. His hand was on his weapon, though he hadn't drawn it.

From behind him, he heard the wails and the shouts, and thundering footsteps... people clamoring to go with them.

"Run," he shouted. The instant the hatch was closed; he disconnected from the ship and pulled away. He left radio contact open because he was recording goodbye messages by people on the other ship. As the ship fell lower and lower, it's hull heating, turning red, screams erupted over the speaker. Before he could hit the cut-off button, the ship was swallowed up by space, and there was an eerie silence.

It didn’t last. The children started screaming and crying."

"Your fault, it's your fault."

"I want my mommy!"

Dean felt the tears that had refused to come before, and tried to pull away. "Enough!"

"Not quite yet, Dean, I'm sorry," and Sam genuinely was. Sorry. There was something else there, something, far worse. Dean wasn't the kind of man who couldn't handle any of the decisions he made during his time in command. In fact, he seemed, somehow, more comfortable functioning within the confines or rules and regulations. But...Sam shook his head and pressed his fingers against Dean's temple ... there was an overwhelming sense of loss. It was to do with the children, and yet not. It was confusing, and Sam was finding the grief ... too much... he blinked and glanced away from the sorrow and anger in Dean's eyes. The Children, a child. "Who...did you lose?" Sam whispered.

Dean blinked, hand lifting off the arm rest to shove Sam away, maybe punch him... he just barely held back. He moved his head, letting Sam's fingers slip off his temple, and taking a couple more calming breaths. "Did you get what you need?" How had this man slipped into his mind, how Goddamit? "Are we done here?"

Sam gasped in a breath of air and sat back too hard in the chair, the front legs lifted momentarily off the floor. "I didn't .. I mean ... I'm sorry." Sam's hand slipped up the back of his neck and rubbed gently, it ached and he couldn't shake off the sense of loss that was flooding through him. "W..we're finished here." Sam knew Dean was waiting for confirmation that there was no reason for him to be pulled from active duty but his mouth was dry. He reached out blindly for the table beside him and grabbed a container of water; he fumbled with the top and finally managed to get it open so he could gulp down a few swallows. He held his hand up to Dean, indicating he needed a minute.

Making an impatient sound, Dean stood up and turned his back to Sam. Without his too insightful eyes on him, he looked up and took a deep breath. "Is this supposed to make you feel better?" he asked, his voice too thick with emotion. "Stir things up instead of leaving them the hell alone." Running his hand over his face, he cursed, but kept it to a whisper, before he turned to look at Sam.

"I apologize for the intrusion. It's my ... job. I know you understand that." He lowered his eyes, realizing he was gripping the material of his own uniform pants tightly. Once Sam had managed to calm his thoughts a bit - he reached out - wondering. Once more, the other man was completely closed off. Whatever had given Sam a slight edge was now gone and he wasn't going to try anything else.

Sam picked up his wrist band and snapped it back on, activated the screen and tapped it a few times. "I've cleared you to resume duty." Oddly enough, he could sense the other man's surprise.

Dean looked at him for a long moment, bent down and picked up his hat. "Then we're done." With that, he turned and strode out of there, a strange feeling lingering in his gut. Something he couldn't shake, and he wasn't so sure it had to do with the memories that telepath had stirred up. The feelings seemed more focused on the man himself. "God, I hope I never see you again. Ever," he said under his breath, but knew, deep down, that since Wesson was the only telepath to get into his head, the next time it was deemed he needed a psych evaluation, that's who they'd send.

* * *

[Two Years Later]

 

The trip to the planet Aragon would take two weeks. Facilities had already been built on the planet that was to be colonized, and Space Corps was escorting scientists and a test group of colonists to the planet and would oversee their safety for six months until the conclusion of the test phase. If the green light was given then, there would be a full on colonization effort, with eventually over a million people starting new lives at their new home.

Though he was not the captain of the ship taking them to the planet, he would be sharing flying duties with the ship's captain, which suited Dean just fine because he hated nothing worse than having nothing to do. Most of the people they were taking would choose to be put to sleep for the two week trip, opting for the comfort of oblivion over the sparseness of the ship. This was no luxury vessel, with most of the rooms as small as a privy and very little offered for entertainment.

Sitting in the guest office on the ship and reviewing the trip details one last time and more particularly, making sure that his people were well equipped for anything that happened when they reached the planet, Dean was interrupted by a cough at the door. He looked up, "yes."

"Almost everyone is on board, sir."

"Good."

"But ..."

"But?" Dean impatiently prodded the Corporal, raising his eyebrows.

"Mr. Dresden, from Tel Unit, has been injured in an accident and a replacement is being sent."

"How quick."

"Should be here any time. Sir, it is Sam Wesson."

The pen in Dean's hand dropped. "Absolutely not. He is on my 'do not use' list, you know that. Do whatever it takes..." As Dean spoke, the tall telepath he'd successfully avoided for years took up the doorway. "Get him off my ship," he said, without mincing words.

Sam blinked a few times, standing quietly in the doorway. "It's nice to see you again, Captain." Smiling, Sam stepped into the room, "unfortunately, you're stuck with me. No one else was available in time to meet with launch requirements." He paused and tilted his head to the side a slight frown flitting across his face as he felt a wave of hostility from Dean. "Of course," Sam nodded to the corporal as he wisely chose that moment to exit the office, "if you'd like to convince the powers-that-be that we should wait another six months before launching - you're obviously welcome to try."


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours to launch time, Goddamit. His mouth flattened into a line as he found no way out of this, other than perhaps asking for Wesson to be relieved after they arrived planet side, and whenever another Telepath was available. Even that wouldn't be easy once the project began. Doing away with any false niceties, Dean got to the point. "Check your things in, then report to the lab. You're already late."

"Ah, yes, I don't do the sleep thing - I prefer to stay awake, get to know the crew." Sam's smile softened, "dreams are quite lovely and if people have any issues with nightmares I'm quite capable of dream-intervention. I'll ensure everyone has a pleasant journey." Sam shifted his kit to his other shoulder. "Is there someone available to show me to my compartment?" He cocked an eyebrow at Dean.

If possible, Dean's jaw tightened some more. "I'd rather you took the sleep option," he said, not wanting the man underfoot.

"Like I said," Sam raised his eyebrows, "I stay awake. According to in-flight regulations, it's my choice. So - my compartment?" This was _certainly_ going to be a challenge. Sam really did understand that his abilities made some people uncomfortable, that there were still some small factions that considered what he did to be an unnatural mutation, something to be wiped out. Winchester didn't feel particularly violent. He was more guarded, closed off and it centered around more specific events. Sam frowned and rubbed his forehead - being around Dean was going to be draining _and_ annoying.

Leaning to the side to look around Sam, Dean shouted, "Corporal? Is he in there?" Sighing, he got up. With the scramble to make the launch time, he didn't believe he would find someone fast enough. Striding to the door, he waited for Sam to exit, then walked to the small desk right outside the door, looked at the passenger list and assigned quarters. "This way," he marched down the hall, a bit irritated that Sam was keeping up. People in the corridors, some uniformed, some in civilian clothes, moved out of their way.

They reached a hatch, he opened it, and headed down some metal stairs. "Once you see your quarters, you may change your mind," Dean said, hopefully. They walked another hall, and then he stopped in front of a door. "Your quarters."

"Thank-you," Sam pressed his thumb against the entry pad and the door slid open revealing the tiny sleeping pod. Familiar with the routine, Sam reached up and released the storage compartment allowing it to fall open, then tossed his kit inside and closed it. "You know, Dean," he turned to face the source of the _irritation_ that was washing over him, "I'm not the enemy."

"Don't be dramatic. Just stay out of my way, and I'm sure we'll get along famously." He pointed to the stairs on the other end of the hall. "That gets you back up to the level we were on. It's where the kitchen is, and other facilities that are open for use. Someone will go over that once we're underway. You have any questions, or are we done here?" At that moment, he vividly remembered putting the same question to Sam when he wanted to get the hell away from the man's probing mind, a few years ago. 

"Are you going to waste this much energy on being irritated with me the entire journey, or would you like to have a drink with me at some point?" Sam smiled watching the other man's face go stony, "we need to discuss the crew manifest, don't worry I'm not suggesting anything untoward." He hopped up onto his bunk, the day's events finally catching up with him. He was tired.

"Don't worry, there's not a chance in hell of anything untoward, as you put it, happening between us," Dean ground out, though he had to once again pull his gaze away from Sam's mouth. What the fuck, the guy didn't think he was the enemy, but he was exactly that. "I'll have time for the discussion in a few days." _Don't call me, I'll call you._ Since there was silence in response, he used his fist on the entry pad, almost sagging against the door when it hissed closed. This... this thing with Sam Wesson was going to take up too much of his energy, he just knew it... saw it coming.

Hungry and a bit lonely Sam made his way to the dining lounge. There were likely to be a few people there at almost any hour and it was strangely comforting. The silence of space always took some getting used to and the one thing that seemed to help was when Sam spent time with the skeleton crew on board. He had spent his entire life living with the subtle thoughts and not-so-subtle feelings of the people around him. In space - things could be so quiet - far more quiet than he was used to.

There were enough people in the kitchen area, sitting around eating, that the room was quite full. Sam's eyes ran over the crowd and settled on a set of tense shoulders, and dirty blond hair. Dean had managed to avoid Sam quite successfully since they'd set out - it must actually have been taking quite a lot of effort and planning since the ship wasn't all that big. Dean had a nice body, he was muscular - obviously took care of himself. His green military issue t-shirt was a little damp at the small of his back, and Sam licked his lips. It was going to be a long trip.

He moved through the room, nodding and greeting the people he'd already begun to make friends with. It never took him very long - it was one of the advantages of being able to read even the subtle emotions that radiated from people. People found Sam _likable_ , easy to talk to. His eyes moved across the hard line of Dean's off-putting shoulders... well, _most people_ found Sam likable. He picked up a food pack off the counter and scanned the room only to discover that the only empty seat was right next to Winchester. He smiled softly, _perfect_ , the _perfect_ start to his day.

Walking over he took a few deep breaths and slipped into the seat beside the Captain. "Hi Dean," his voice was soft, almost inaudible in the buzz of conversation flooding the room. He tugged on the neck of his t-shirt, damp sweat already beading on his flesh. They always kept these damn ships too hot.

No. Oh God no. Dean had been enjoying his hot dogs and fries, one of the crew members had actually cooked for a couple of them. It had been sheer heaven, until the telepath entered the room, and Dean just knew where he was gonna end up sitting. He'd bet he was sitting there trying to read his body language, trying to drain off any emotional feedback he could get. "Samuel," he acknowledge the man but didn't smile. "Pass me the ketchup," he nodded to Sam's left, eyes flicking away the minute they were drawn to the motions of the guy's hand on his shirt.

Sam reached out and wrapped long fingers around the container sliding it toward Dean. "How are things going ... with the crew I mean?" He was tired of the animosity. Negative emotions wore Sam down - almost like sandpaper. For some reason, it was even worse with Dean, there was something about the man that saddened Sam. He felt somehow, _cheated_ , that they weren't able to, at least, be friends but he had no idea where the feeling came from. It was strange.

Dean caught it. "Thanks." Squeezing the plastic bottle and covering a quarter of his plate with the red stuff, he answered. "Everyone seems to be taking care of their functions. No anomalies." They'd found that deep space travel, especially in certain quadrants, sometimes didn't agree with the human psyche and made people act... strangely, sometimes even dangerously. That was another reason it was preferred that most people sleep throughout the journey. "If you're asking about personality conflicts, ask someone else. I don't get involved in that," he said, his gaze meeting Sam's, a memory stealing into his mind - _Then I suppose we will both have something to regret, won't we?_ What the hell? Why was he _still_ thinking on that plastic meeting at the bar on Beta Centauri? It had been a set up, and it hadn't turned out the way he'd have predicted. But it wasn't the first time that had happened to him, and there were plenty of other men and women he'd been with since. Why should he remember those words, or that look in Sam's eyes. Why?

Sam unzipped his food packet and dumped some of the small food nuggets into his palm. "I was just making conversation." His thoughts wandered a bit, tugged away from him gently by the emotions around the room. He smiled - there was already a blossoming romance between two of the crew, he liked that- it made him feel like the place was more alive. Relaxing, he shifted in his chair, letting his legs fall to the side, he realized too late it was Dean's thigh he was leaning against. He picked up one of the nuggets and put it in his mouth, the warmth of Dean's thigh rippling through his body like some sort of crazy electricity.

"This isn't kindergarten, I don't have to share with the cla..." Dean started to answer someone who'd made a joke about the freshly made hot dogs, when he became aware of the heat spreading from the point their thighs touched. His heart gave a lurch, something that didn't happen often to him, not since he'd been a teen. Fuck. He used his elbow to nudge corporeal Smith, who was sitting next to him. "I'm going to go relieve Captain Richards at the helm." He started to take his plate and push away from the table, when Smith stopped him.

"Colleen is second chairing with him. I don't think he needs additional relief."

The smirk on Smith's face told Dean that the Captain of the ship was having a private moment with his wife. Great, fucking great. Nodding, he shifted his chair a little, so there was no fear of touching again, but the damage was done. His fucking pulse was too Goddamned high. His gaze shifted to Sam, narrowed, wondering if he was doing his 'reading crap.'

"I know you think that I'm constantly reading you," Sam's voice was low, gentle, only for Dean's ears. "I'm not, I'm not like that - all I can sense most of the time is what people are emitting because they _want_ to. For instance, I can tell how much you ... dislike ... me and that's not something you're trying to keep a secret now is it?" He pushed his chair back and stood up, "have a good day, Dean."

He knew they needed to be able to work together. Without looking up, he spoke loud enough for Sam to hear him, but probably not the others. "It's not you personally, it's all telepaths." That wasn't the completely true, he was on edge around Sam more than other telepaths because something else was going on below the surface. Something he didn't understand. Didn't want to. That and the fact he'd been able to get past his mental defenses. "Finish your meal, I'm almost done anyway."

Sam paused for a moment and then sat back down, careful to keep his distance from Dean. He popped some more food in his mouth and grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe his face as he chewed. "Why do they keep these ships so warm?" He was muttering, he knew it, but he was frustrated.

"Torture? I dunno. Probably has to do with the bottom line. The more uncomfortable it is, the more people will choose the sleep route," he shrugged, picking up his hot dog and dipping it into the mustard and ketchup mixture on his plate, and stuffing a big piece into his mouth. "All it accomplishes is keeping people on edge." His jaw pulsed, he was talking about himself at that moment.

"Yeah," Sam blew out a long breath, "tell me about it." That's why he'd been so happy about the warmer feelings radiating from the two women behind him, who quite obviously found each other interesting _and_ attractive. "There are some really good people on board though, I like them, well, the ones I've been speaking with." He offered Dean a slight smile and pushed the package of food away. "I guess a little edge is good when you're a Captain though, yeah?"

"I'm not _the_ Captain of the ship, just a Captain," he corrected. There, it wasn't too hard. He was speaking civilly with the man. He looked at Sam's uneaten food. "You need to get hooked up with Price. She actually likes to cook... make it in here when she's in here, and she shares." He didn't offer to share his though, as he popped another French fry into his mouth. "You wanted to go over the manifest. I can do it tomorrow night. I take over the helm at midnight... so before then, eleven. Meet me in my office."

Sam nodded, "Okay ... thanks." He sighed and looked around the room. There _were_ some good people on board, he was pretty sure that Dean was one of them - if he ever let anyone in. None-the-less, Sam knew it wouldn't be _him_ that was let in.

Dean frowned. "Is that too late? Other option is six a.m."

"Eleven is fine," Sam nodded and blew out a breath, "I'm usually up at night - people are quieter... well, it's quieter for me." It was more peaceful when people were dreaming. Dreams were always easier to take than thoughts and feelings. Some of them were quite pleasant. The best thing about people dreaming was that the R.E.M. cycle wasn't all that long. He spent the better part of his evening ... alone.

"Fine." Finishing off his plate and licking his fingers, Dean wiped on a napkin and got up, taking his plate to the sink. He was a night owl, and didn't need much sleep. Dreams weren't usually kind to him anyway, so he preferred not to sleep.

A couple more days passed. Their meeting had gone without incident. Dean couldn't deny that tension still stretched thick between them. That Sam made him wary, made him want to throw up all of his defenses. His presence shot up his adrenalin somehow, triggering feelings akin to the 'flight or fight' instinct. He'd had to master both of those instincts just to get through the meeting. If it had been anyone other than Sam in his office, he would likely have moved to the round table and reviewed the manifest side by side, instead of using his large desk to keep the distance between them.

Something about Sam got to him. Alright, yes, he was afraid ... hated the thought of being read. Couldn't stand it that Sam had broken into his mind once already. But that wasn't all. There was a sense of impending doom, something he couldn't get rid of. Like Sam could get inside again and then somehow break him, which was impossible. He could not be broken. He wasn't afraid of death or of pain. He wasn't attached to what he owned, or anyone in particular. His mother had passed long ago, his father a few years ago, but he couldn't even make himself go to their resting place. The chasm between them had only grown over the years.

Anyway, he didn't avoid Sam as obviously as he had at first, but was more stealthy about it. Always courteous, but never too chatty. Even when he sometimes had this incredible urge to tell him a war story, or something... it would be at the tip of his tongue, then he'd hold back. He didn't want to be friends with that man, and he knew that some of the urges he was feeling, including his heightened sexual awareness of Sam, could be tied up with the fact that the man was a telepath. They could be sympathetic, could make you want to talk, to share, all the things Dean didn't want. Didn't need to feel.

Dean woke with a start. It was the fucking dream again, Goddamit. Even as he turned his head to look at the clock, feelings of intense sadness and abandonment washed over him. No. He was not doing this. He was not going back there, not now, not with a damned telepath aboard. Wiping the moisture that had crept down his face, he got out of bed. The fact that it was 4:00 a.m. be damned, he needed to do something with himself.

Pulling on some light sweat pants and grabbing a towel, he headed out of his room and up the stairs. Thumping the entry pad, he ducked inside the gym the moment the doors opened. Seeing as no one else was around, he put his own code in at the music selector station and then checking his playlist, picked some heavy metal. The instant the music started, a slight sense of peace washed over him. Between that and physical exertion, he'd be fine. Maybe be able to catch a couple more Zs.

As he made the rounds, using the machinery for weight lifting, using every muscle in his body, arms, legs, abs, he started to win the fight against the feelings evoked by the dreams he could never really remember. He didn't know how much time passed, but eventually he was wiping off, and laying down to use the bench press. Sure, he probably shouldn't be doing this alone seeing as he was testing his limits, but he needed this... needed to exhaust his body, and he would.

Sam whipped around the corner into the gym, hoping there wouldn't be too many people around. It was amusing to many of his colleagues in the Tel Unit but he didn't particularly like working out in front of people. He needed to work out, it made him feel better, it was a habit he had picked up back in his training days. When he was still young and had trouble being able to deal with all the emotion that surrounded him all the time, the focus, the intensity of working out had helped to ground him. He'd never stopped.

When the door slid open in front of him he was a bit disheartened to see Dean. Sure, things had improved _slightly_. They were much more like two solitary wolves circling each other respectfully now but it still wasn't all that comfortable. He noticed though, that the other man was bench pressing, not in keeping with ship protocols, alone. Sam wandered closer and waited until Dean pushed the weight bar up and settled it back on the metal rack before speaking, "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to report you to a Captain for lifting without a spotter." He smiled down at Dean.

Staring at Sam, upside down, he let out a deep breath and tried not to notice how the guy's tee pulled tight across his chest. He licked his lips, tasting salt, telling his mind that the form of exercise that he was suddenly starting to think about wasn't on his 'to do' list. "Yeah, well... I have a feeling the Captain will show leniency." He frowned. "What are you doing here? There a problem?"

"I came to work out, isn't that what most people do in here?" Sam tossed his towel down on the floor behind him. "Spot you if you like?" He rested his hands on the bar above Dean's head, one eyebrow raised.

"Only the insane ones at this time. Yeah, please," he added, wiping his hands on his thighs before gripping the bars again. His gaze briefly met Sam's, but he looked away quickly, feeling a little like he'd been burned.

Sam let his hands go loose on the bar, fingers grazing Dean's. "When you're ready." He shifted his legs apart a little, stepped forward and made sure he was stable. "I come here when it's quiet - I don't much like working out with other people around, and I like to be awake when the crew is sleeping. It's easier... for me."

"Hmm." He'd actually thought of Sam as a social butterfly, the way he knew about everyone and seemed to have a smile for all. "Easier how?" he asked, moving his hands slightly, so he could concentrate as his muscles tensed and he started to lift. Never had he had so much trouble focusing, forcing himself not to look at the telepath's flat abs and wonder what he looked like under the pants. This wasn't a Goddamned view screen encouter, and he needed to stay in control.

Sam's eyes wandered down Dean's arms, he _obviously_ worked out a lot. "When I'm awake during the same hours as most of the crew - I get a bit bombarded by people's feelings. I know you think I _seek_ it out - but I don't. In fact, I wish I could turn it off Sometimes, it's exhausting - although, you have a predominantly happy crew." He slipped his hands under the bar as Dean pushed the weights back up. "You doing reps of ten?"

"Yeah." Dean chewed on the information as he grit his teeth and did his presses. "Maybe you should learn to... block," the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. "Seriously, what are you going to do when we're not on a skeleton crew, or what if there is a mass disaster?" He'd never wanted to know, understand anything about those in the Tel Unit, and was surprised the question crossed his lips. Arms shaking, he started to bring the weights down.

Hands moving once more to hover above the bar Sam raised his eyebrows, a wry smile on his face. "I'm trained to block, but it seems unfair somehow. I mean - people can't shut off their thoughts from me so it only seems fair that I don't cut myself off from anyone. I .." Sam swallowed around a lump that was forming in his throat, "I was blocking once on a long mission and I missed something rather important, I could have .. well, I could have prevented something unfortunate from happening." He was surprised he was still speaking, and even more surprised he was speaking about that particular incident, "so, I don't block anymore." He watched Dean's arms trembling a little with the strain. "You good?" He slipped his hands further under the bar, careful not to touch it.

His tongue wet his suddenly dried lips, and he dropped the weights little faster than he intended, answering belatedly, "Yeah." Resting, he took a deep breath, and fought against his curiosity. He didn't like people in his business, and he didn't get in theirs. Those were the rules he played by. Before. "What happened? What did you miss?" he asked, knowing it had to be horrendous. 

Shifting his weight Sam stepped back. "I missed someone who had a particularly bad reaction to being on a long term mission. I knew he was feeling the effects but I thought he was stable." He shrugged, "turned out he wasn't. When he finally had a psychotic break, he killed two other crew members and because I was blocking I missed it. It was my fault." Sam moved over to the closest weight machine and sat down. Adding some weight, he started working his biceps. "Of course, by Tel Unit standards I wasn't at fault. We are allowed to block for five hours a day. I just couldn't live with that." He grunted as he worked his arms.

Pushing up, Dean grabbed his towel and started drying his face and neck, watching the play of Sam's muscles as he worked the machine. "Well there's an irony for you. You're job is to help people let go of... things, and doesn't look to me like you let go of that." It came out sounding more insensitive than he intended, but that was his way of speaking. "I don't think anyone should be 'on call' twenty four seven, but I get how knowing something doesn't ... well you can still feel like you messed up, think that you could or should'a done something." He knew that well enough.

Dean nodded, sucking in his breath when Sam shifted and sort of lifted his hips before settling down again. "I should go." Trying to get his fucking hormones under control, Dean started to get up.

Sam glanced over at Dean. "For the record, my _job_ is to facilitate healing when I can, and when I can't, I assist people in developing strategies for coping. I cope." He dropped the weights back down and reached for his towel, wiping the back of his neck. "If you doubt my ability to protect your crew I can send you my work record. I've not lost another crew member since then." He looked down, wiping his hands on his towel.

"I didn't... I didn't say that." The fact that Sam thought that's where his mind was gave Dean a little assurance that the telepath really wasn't reading him every second. "Besides... it was the first thing I checked. I was hoping for a valid reason to boot you," he grinned. "You're not very cooperative that way."

"Well," Sam pushed his hair off his face, "I try to do a good job." His eyes moved up to Dean's and he was surprised to see that other man smiling. He smiled back.

"I think you can handle more than that," Dean responded, looking at the weights, then moving closer to increase them. He could feel Sam's body heat. His gaze went to him, he looked thoughtful for a moment, considering what might have happened on that space station if... "There," he said almost softly, before pulling up.

"Thanks," Sam slipped his hands back over the pads and started lifting, "feels better. So - what about you - you have any work drama in your past?" He froze, "I didn't mean about... I mean - I wasn't trying to bring up.." his voice trailed off. 

He searched Sam's face. "Nah, I'm... I'm over that." Yeah, that's why he occasionally looked up the blogs of some of those kids he'd rescued off the doomed passenger flight. A lot of them were messed up and a couple still pretty much wished he were dead. He was able to brush it off for the most part though, there was only so much a person could do. "I'd call my work day more adventure than drama," he shrugged. "Except when we're just... you know, traveling like now."

Sam started pulling the weight again, he could feel his t-shirt dampening with sweat. "Well, I'm okay with a little peace and quiet for a while. We'll have a lot of work to do when we get there. Are you done? I think I will ... just go take a shower or something." He let the weights fall back, "get a couple of hours of sleep after I wander around for a bit." The corners of his mouth twitched up into a slight smile, "have to do my nightly rounds, listen to a few dreams."

"Yeah, I'm done." He stepped away before Sam got up, and went to turn off his music. "Good night."

"Good night," Sam ran the towel over his face, "and thanks for talking to me like I'm ... normal." He smiled, hair sticking to his cheeks.

Dean just lifted his chin in response, waited a few minutes after Sam left, then followed him out.

It was only a few days before they'd reach Aragon and Dean had been putting in overtime because there had been errors in the original information that had been provided to him. The health and welfare of all the people aboard and those already on the planet were his responsibility. He had to make sure supplies would timely be delivered, confirm routes of delivery and contact the various governmental arms that had to interact on the diplomatic side.

Too tired to get up and go to his room, he put his head down on his arms on the desk. It was the about four a.m. and no one would be coming to see him anyway.

[Dream]

Goddamit, he did not need any bloodsucking Tel rambling around inside his head. Dean reached the office, and pushed the door open. It was Samuel Wesson. Again. He was sitting in his arm chair, waiting for him, but he hadn't heard him walk in.

Slowly, he walked up behind Sam, determined to do now what he should have done the first time he found out the sexy guy he'd met at the bar was the Tel assigned to analyze him. Distracted him, shown him what he'd missed out on, maybe make up for some lost time.

When he was close enough, Dean took a quarter step to the side of the arm chair so he was still mostly behind Sam. Leaning in, he brought one palm down over Sam's chest, right under his heart, and with the other, he cupped the side of Sam's throat, moving both hands up simultaneously, one hand stroking over Sam's chest, the other forcing his face and mouth toward him. God that mouth, thoughts of it had tortured him since he'd last seen Sam. It was time to end the torture now.

Leaning in, Dean ran his own mouth over the expanse of Sam's throat, his hands and mouth moving constantly, worshiping Sam. Oh God, the moan that broke from the Tel, the way he allowed him to pull his face, his body, in whatever direction Dean wanted, and fuck, the warm moisture he felt when Sam's mouth skimmed his ear as he continued to kiss Sam's throat, had Dean hard and needy ... so fucking needy.

Sam's body moved with the slide of Dean's hands. His hips shifted up and like a wave, the movement ran up his spine, his chest and his neck. He breathed in the warm scent of the other man's body, lips barely brushing Dean's ear as he moved away. Dean was near him, then far away, then his hands were moving down his body starting the writhing wave all over again. Sam's long fingers gripped the arm of the chair, shaking with the lust running through his veins.

As Dean gently cupped Sam's jaw and moved his hand upwards, mapping every plane of his face, he brought his own mouth close to Sam's, so close he could feel the puffs of air leaving Sam. He brushed the corner of Sam's mouth, heat radiating through his system at that slight touch. "Sammy," he breathed so low, the only reason the other man could hear him was that they were so close.

God, Sam felt so good under his palms, so responsive, so pliable. Dean's hand traveled over hard muscle, dipping into the valleys between each muscle group as he made his way down to Sam's abs. So good, so fucking good, and they weren't even in bed yet. Just as his hand covered Sam's shaft, his mouth slanted over Sam's in an upside down kiss. Tongues tangled, danced together, as he squeezed and pressed, and groaned at the feel of Sam growing harder and thicker for him.  
Sam's hand was trembling as he reached up, fingers ghosting over Dean's cheek. His hips shot up off the chair as he moaned into the dark warmth of Dean's mouth. His free hand clawed at his own thigh, fingers digging into the muscle. He _wanted_ this man and his body ached, his spine curved towards the touch of Dean's hands. Sam's tongue sweep across the roof of Dean's mouth, _so warm_ , and skimmed across his smooth teeth. He writhed under the touch, the feel of the kiss sending small shocks through his body.

Moving more to the side, Dean continued to kiss Sam, his mouth working over those soft sensuous lips that had taunted him for too long, tasting him, tracing the edges of his mouth then penetrating it deeply. The way Sam kissed him back, let him run his hand all over his body, lifted his hips just right, it was like a moment they'd been working towards, and when it came, they knew exactly what to do. Groaning, teasing the shell of Sam's ear, tracing it with his tongue, then kissing softly... his stomach tightening as Sam raised his face, searching for the heat of his mouth. That was when Dean couldn't take a moment more, and moved to straddle his thighs.

Dean woke with a jerk, breathing hard, and suffering from a raging hard-on. For once, he remembered his dream, and cursed under his breath. Goddamit, he didn't need to be dreaming about the Telepath, didn't need to be thinking about him at all.

Pushing away from the desk, he crossed the room in two strides, and as he walked out, rubbed the pad of his thumb over his still burning lips.

Sam had been wandering the aft corridors of the ship when he'd first sensed a sort of tug at his mind, like he was being called, and if his memory of how it felt was correct - it seemed like it was coming from Dean. He wandered towards the Captain's office each step bringing him a little more clarity, Dean _wanted_ him, _needed_ him somehow. Sam's pace quickened as he moved through the empty corridors of the ship, the sound of his footsteps echoing ahead of him.

The closer he got - the stronger then sensation and then it slammed into him as he neared Dean's office. Hands on his body, moving, exploring - and lips so close to his ear, his cheek. Dean _wanted_ him, wanted to touch his lips, his arms, the curve of his chest. Sam's step faltered and he stumbled into the wall outside Dean's office, leaning his cheek against the cool metal wall. He'd felt dreams before, obviously, it was part of his job - but never something so sensual and entirely directed at him. His hand shook as he leaned it against the wall in front of his face, the _need_ was overwhelming, he could feel his heart thundering in his chest, pushing his blood through his veins faster and faster. Sam's eyes drifted closed at about the same moment as he heard the door to the office slide open.

Sensing a presence, Dean lifted and turned his head slightly, his eyes widening at the sight of Sam pressed flat against the wall, his face flushed... just like it had been in his dream. Fucking hell. "You were eavesdropping?" It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. And just like that, they were back to square one. "Sonova..."

His jaw was so tight as he walked away, that it ached as much as his fucking dick, Once they got planet side, best thing he could do was find a warm willing body, and stop thinking or dreaming about that Telepath with a penchant for snooping. He'd believed him before. Maybe even started to trust him. But what he'd done now... it was exactly what Dean expected all along.

"Dean..." Sam called out as the other man retreated down the hallway. He knew he wouldn't answer. The anger, and worse _betrayal_ he left behind in his wake was overwhelming. Sam slid down the wall as his eyes followed Dean's stiff back until he turned a corner and disappeared. He hadn't followed it deliberately, it had been - like he was called, like he was _needed_ , so of course he followed the dream. He banged his head back against the wall - the trust they'd built was so fragile and now it was gone in an instant. Sam knew Dean well enough to know there'd be no chance for him to explain. Sighing he ran a hand down over his face, and palmed the front of his pants trying to relieve some of the pressure there. He really did _regret_ their not being together, it was a shame that Dean would never believe that now.


	3. Chapter 3

Space Corps personnel had been a awakened two days before landing and then, twelve hours before landing, they'd awakened the general public. This way no one would be confused or disorientated when they disembarked. Dean was back in uniform, walking the halls, checking on the progress of the efforts to disembark and the planetary colonization measures. The ship's regular crew was to rest on the planet for a few days and then head back on other missions.

A few times during the lengthy disembarking process, Dean saw Sam counseling those who'd been awakened, helping them separate their dreams from reality, or to beat back fears that were sometimes magnified by space travel. When their eyes met, he knew his own were hard as flint, a look that would make most people flinch or turn away.

Finally, everyone was ushered or helped off the ship and shown to their planetary quarters. There was a main building consisting of the offices dealing with the administrators, a food hall, a bar, and a restaurant. It also housed most of the Space Corps personnel. Another large building consisted of the main lab and medical facilities, as well as meeting rooms, and housing for quite a lot of the scientists. There were additional outlaying housing, single family units for the families, and apartment buildings for singles and couples.

Exercise facilities were also available, and a few restaurants and cafes should be running within a months time.

Aragon. His home for the next six months. And until his mission was over, these were hispeople walking to their new homes.

He turned to speak with his corporal. "Are the scanners online? I don't want any surprises."

"Yes Sir, scanners online, nothing in view."

"Good." They were on the edges of earth colonized galaxies, and there was always the danger of attacks from other peoples who wanted to claim the planet for themselves.

 

* * *

 

Just like Dean had predicted, once everyone had been awakened, the ship had been a bit of a nightmare for Sam. With everyone awake, there had been a lot for him to deal with. The crew were stressed, anxious, frustrated - all the worst emotions for Sam to have to deal with incessantly. Much to his dislike he found he had to block at least one hour a day just to keep himself focused.

In addition to the additional challenge of more conscious crew, Sam had been tracking a crew member and a passenger who had awakened after the journey with some mental challenges. The long sleep and the chemicals that were used to induce R.E.M. sleep could cause reactions in some people.

Jo Harvelle was the one who worried Sam the most. He had met with her as she awoke. Against better judgment, the sleep manager had awakened Harvelle while she was having a nightmare. The flood of fear and confusion from her sent Sam crashing to his knees in the dining room. When he was finally helped up by some crew members, he had run to the sleep capsule and had managed to bring her through the worst of it. He likened it to being a light in a dense fog - something for people to aim for.

The problem was, even after they'd landed and got settled on Aragon, Harvelle continued to struggle to return to her normal sleep pattern, and when she did sleep, she was plagued with nightmares of epic proportion. The more unstable she became, the more time Sam spent tracking her. He sensed that a break was approaching and realized he could no longer put off a visit to Dean to discuss his recommendation that Harvelle be removed from duty and hospitalized. Sam was exhausted and felt he was no longer able to keep her safe.

He approached Dean's quarters like a man approaching a wild animal. There had not been many encounters between the two men since they landed but the one's they'd had weren't all that pleasant. Dean didn't trust Sam any further than he could throw him, which certainly wasn't very far. Sam had no idea why it grated on his nerves so much. He'd been misunderstood before. People without any telepathic abilities often made incorrect assumptions about Tels. It was frustrating but Sam was usually able to move past it. Things with Dean were different. Dean had remained bitter and hostile since that night his dream had drawn Sam to him. It was remarkably unfair for Dean to lay all the blame at Sam's feet, after all, it hadn't been Sam's mind that had generated the dream that had reduced them both to sexually frustrated messes.

Sam knew Dean was embarrassed - another chink in his armor. So, Sam had let it go, he just wasn't feeling so charitable now that someone's life might be in danger. Dean would just have to suck it up and deal with Sam.

By the time he reached the hallway Dean's quarters were housed in he could sense Dean wasn't alone. It was no psychic vision that told him that - it was the wall of desire that hit Sam when he rounded the final corner. Dean's emotions were remarkably unique in the Sam seemed to be able to easily pick them out of the rat's nest of feelings around him at any given moment.

Dean was with someone, a pleasure visit with a crew member or civilian, Sam suspected. It wasn't uncommon and Dean was certainly a healthy, virile man. It didn't change the fact that Sam needed to speak with him.

Sam pressed his thumbprint to the door pad and waited while he was announced inside.

A few moments later Dean's door slid open to reveal his shirtless torso and flushed skin. Sam swallowed, "Dean, I need to speak with you regarding a crew member... it's urgent." He left no room for misinterpretation in his tone.

Locking gazes with the exact person he was trying to get out of his system, Dean literally fought for control, fought not to slam a fist into the telepath's face and tell him to get the hell away. But his words sank in, and Dean knew his duty. "Give me a minute," he said, curtly, moving back so the door slid shut.

Within five minutes, he was dressed, had made his apologies to the girl he was with, and walked her out the door. His gaze lingered on her swinging ass as she walked away, then he turned and took a deep breath. "This better be good."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't need to be." Sam leaned against the wall. "It's Harvelle - she's coming apart. She was woken from a nightmare during her journey sleep, the sleep supervisor made a bad call and now it's caught up with her." His eyes flitted over to Dean's stony face. "I'm exhausted, Dean, I need her pulled from duty and sent to a supervised ward in the hospital and I need it done now. I apologize for interrupting your ..." he gestured towards the door, "thing." Sam combed his fingers through his hair, eyes wide.

"Don't get cute with me," Dean snapped, perceiving Sam's comment about his 'thing' as criticism. "Is she an imminent danger to herself or to others?"

"Do you think I would be here if she weren't? I'm worried that ... I know she's going to have a break - I've felt it before. She needs to be isolated and protected and I need an officer to do it." He sighed, " .. and don't snap at me I'm just doing my job," he spat. Frustrated with himself he looked down at his feet and waited afraid if he looked up he might swear at the man. His fists were clenched at his side.

Stepping just inside his unit, Dean picked up his telecommunication device, took a moment to control his own temper and walked out again. Pressing the button to connect with dispatcher, he asked for the location of Harvelle's residence and asked for it to be sent to his device. He also directed that the hospital be prepared to accept a patient for solitary confinement and observation and to prepare to send back up if necessary. Nodding, he started to walk, studying the device and not looking at Sam. "So, is she the only one? That's not too bad considering the numbers we have."

"I'm tracking one more person from the passengers but I think he will be fine. I'm meeting with him daily - he's very strong. I kept careful watch on all of them, I've only been blocking for an hour a day." He rubbed his eyes and bumped into Dean accidentally, "sorry, I... anyway, I will let you know if anyone else has any issues." He fell into step beside Dean. "How are you adjusting? I ... I haven't been anywhere near you or your thoughts since we landed."

"Fine," the word was clipped, intended to cut off the discussion. He glanced at Sam and noticed that the man did appear tired. His face was a bit drawn, and there were shadows under his eyes. "I'm not going to tell you how to do your job but if you were a Corps man and had extended duties over a long period of time, I'd order you to take your full rest allotment at least once every third day. My two cents, you don't have to take the advice." They exited the building and headed across the greens. The nights sky was darker than on earth, and the two moons were a blood red. Dean pulled out a flashlight to light their way, not all of the lighting had been installed as yet.

"Fortunately, I'm not a Corps man." Sam's voice was more tense than he intended but he was exhausted by Dean's hostility. Frankly, he wanted nothing to do with the man's feelings, thoughts or emotions... the less the better. "Are you armed?"

Dean gave him a look. He guessed it was only fair, they were both grating on each others' nerves. "Yeah. Armed and ready, are you getting increased negative vibes?" Dealing with someone who went off the deep end after a bad reaction to the sleeping pods could be challenging. Even a child could get violent, not know what he or she was doing and act like they were on powerful drugs which dulled their pain receptors. A person who couldn't feel pain was dangerous.

Checking on their progress, he flashed the light toward a building that they approached, checked it's number, and headed down the narrow walkway. "It's the next one. Apartment G-3." As they walked, he pulled his gun out, loaded it, made sure the safety was on and pushed it back into his waist band, at his back, within easy reach.

Sam hated guns, but he had confidence that Dean wouldn't use his weapon unless he had to. "She's worse than when I left, be careful, Dean." Sam could feel the confusion, his fingers drifted up to his forehead and he grunted, the force of her feelings was a strain for his already exhausted mind. "Hurry..." his voice was soft, fingers reaching out for Dean's wrist.

The instant Sam's hand clamped around his wrist, Dean looked over at him. Ordinarily, he would have shaken off anyone grabbing him like that, and he had no idea why he didn't. Increasing their pace to a run, when he reached the unit, he put his arm out, barring Sam from getting in front of the door. "Stay back."

He knocked three times, "this is Captain Winchester, open up. I need to talk to you." After a few moments, he stepped back and kicked the door near the handle. It went slamming into the inside wall. "Stand back," he repeated, hand touching the light pad. When the lights didn't go on, he knew there was trouble.

"Jo Harvelle... we're here to help." He took a few steps into the apartment, searching the room with the small flashlight. It was a mess. The large wall screen had been torn off and lay in shattered pieces on the ground, crackling under Dean's booted feet as he stepped on them. Tables were overturned, things were trashed. "Jo?"

Looking behind him, he took a few more steps and pushed past the entrance to the kitchen. Everything was out of the cabinets. He opened a couple of the larger ones, made sure no one was hiding, and started into the laundry area.

It came out of nowhere and hit Sam full force like a bat swung at his head. He staggered back against the door frame, cried out, then fell to the floor. "Dean..." his voice was rough, strained, "it's ... she's in trouble... here though - be careful..." He leaned his cheek against the broken glass on the floor, reaching up to wipe his face. He looked at his fingers as they came away covered in blood. His hand fell to the floor and he rolled onto his side, one hand wrapped over his head.

Running back into the living room, Dean saw Sam on the ground and looked at the direction he was looking. Nodding, he pressed a button on his communication device requesting back up, and headed into the hall where she must have scurried back to. He pushed a door open, saw an empty bathroom, walked away and pushed another door open, but silently came back. He'd seen the shower curtain move, and the window was closed.

Two seconds later, a petite blond came out, a short plank in her hands, obviously intending to follow him to the other room. "Stop." He gave her one chance, and ducked the plank, throwing his fist out and glancing her chin. He sent her back against the wall, and followed. "Stay down, Jo, stay down," he demanded, but it was futile. She scrambled up, screeching at him and attacking. He shoved her into the living room where there was more space, then swept his leg around at ground level, knocking her over onto her back.

She screamed as glass cut into the side of her face, picked up a big shard and aimed it.

"Uh uh," Dean kicked it out of her hand, landed on top of other and grabbing her wrist, rolled her over onto her stomach. He pressed his knee into the small of her back. As he started to cuff her, security showed.

"You alright? You need to go see the doc?" Dean asked Sam, not looking back until the other men took over, and he could stand up. He got to Sam who was being helped up and could see the blood on his temple. His heart constricted. What the fuck? He'd taken a step toward him, his arms opening to the sides, he'd wanted to fucking hug Sam? What the hell? It had almost been like ... like instinct. "Ah... Sam?"

"No, yeah... I mean," he swayed a little and leaned back against the wall for a few moments. "I'm good, I'll be fine." He moved towards the door and grabbed the door frame, steadying himself for a moment then moved outside onto the walkway quickly. He needed to get away from Jo and Dean, it was too much. Her emotions ... it was like a faucet had been turned on and he was being bombarded, and Dean, Dean was just all over the place. After about three steps he sank to one knee and threw up, tipping back into the wall and closing his eyes, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead.

In a couple steps, Dean was in front of Sam, bending over and searching his face. He grasped that it wasn't the physical injuries that were affecting Sam, but the emotional ones which he'd been refusing to block. "Come on, I know a place," he said, putting his shoulder under Sam's arm and lifting him to his feet. "Lieutenant, secure the premises and then I want a full report from the hospital, copy Mr. Wesson."

Once they were on the greens, he forced Sam to walk to the lab, which was nearby. The guy was damned tall, and Dean was no shorty, and there was a little staggering, but he had the feeling that as a telepath, Sam was picking up the fact that Dean would carry him if he had to, so he was making a greater effort.

At the end of the path, he pressed his thumb against the keypad, and they walked into the building. "Just a little more," he said, gently, almost as if he were speaking to a child as they got into the elevator.

Sam's mind was a mess. He was desperately trying to block Jo but her connection to him was strong, and he was tired. Dean, had actually been right. Sam needed more rest, needed more time to be alone in his own mind. "W..Where are we?" He rubbed his eyes, and only succeeded in getting more blood in his left eye.

"Lab, it should block everyone out." As soon as the elevator doors hissed open, he half dragged Sam to a large steel door, used the keypad and entered the secondary security code. The heavy door, much like a vault, opened up. He got Sam inside, pulled it closed, and helped him to a rolling chair next to a counter. Once he had him seated, he cupped his chin, pulling it up to look at the physical damage. "Any... better? Don't move." Slowly, he pulled out a small piece of glass embedded in Sam's skin.

"Thanks," Sam blinked his eyes a few times and then closed them, "better," he mumbled as he relaxed a little. Opening his eyes he blinked up at Dean. "Can you not touch me, please, it makes it hard ... for me to not feel your emotions and I know you don't like that. I.. I can block you but not if you touch me." He looked down fighting another wave of nausea as his body slowly recovered its balance.

"Don't sweat it, I think I can manage not to feel anything I don't want you to know about." He almost smiled as he continued to inspect for remnants of glass, and saw another piece. "Just one more, then I'll clean it up."

"The glass, was from the floor?" It was all kind of a blur in Sam's mind. "Is Jo alright?" He coughed and shifted a little on the chair, reaching up to rub his eye again. "I should go and see her, help her." He pushed up from the chair.

"You're not going anywhere." Gripping his shoulder, Dean pushed him back down. "She'll have been sedated by now, and there is nothing you can do for her until tomorrow. Only way you can help her is by helping yourself first. Don't make me pull rank, Sammy." He stilled, his mind freezing at the fact he'd called him Sammy.

"Don't call me...Sammy..." It tugged as his mind somehow, Sammy, strange - as far as he could remember no one had ever called him that but it ... felt strangely familiar. Shaking his head, he looked up, "sorry, that was rude... I'm a little confused." Sam ran a hand down over his face slowly and let out a long breath.

"Won't happen again." A muscle throbbed in Dean's jaw. Where the hell had Sammy come from? "Okay, got the last one." Dean crossed the room and went into some drawers until he found a first aid kit and returned. Wetting some cotton, he started to clean the wounds. "Is it quieter now, in your head?"

"It is ... thanks." Sam tried a slight smile and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about.." he gestured to his face, "all this, I'm usually not so affected - but she was really... and I've let myself get over-tired." His looked up at Dean and tilted his head, "you were right - I will take your advice and take my allowable rest time from now on." Dean's eyes were the most startling color of green. Sam shook his head and looked away. "Sorry - you should go back to your, your friend."

"Nah, the itch is gone." He chuckled at the comment that would more likely have escaped him over a beer than with a semi stranger in a lab. He started slathering antibiotic cream, then met Sam's gaze and raised his eyebrow.

"What?" Sam's cheeks colored quickly betraying the fact that Dean caught him looking at the color of his eyes. He looked away quickly.

Dean shrugged, then zapped the medilamp over the wounds, making sure they'd heal quickly. "There. Good as new." Moving to lean against the counter, he looked down at his feet. "That was... good work. If she'd left her unit, she could have caused a lot of damage. There are a lot of kids across the way, in the family units."

Sam smiled and looked up at Dean's face again. "Thank-you." He knew that praise didn't come often from Dean and took it at face value. Sam's wristband chimed softly and he looked momentarily puzzled and then tapped the screen. "She's going to be okay, they have her stabilized. A few cuts but Jo will be fine." He tapped the screen again and looked back over at Dean, "she's a good crew-member, I hope this doesn't affect her career. She's devoted to her job." Blowing out a breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe I should just sleep in here," he laughed softly.

"Happens to the best of us, not her fault." He looked around. "I could arrange to get a cot brought in, if you like." There was a pause, then he looked at Sam. "How did you do it? How'd you get into my mind. No one's... not since I was maybe..." he motioned with his hand. "Thirteen?"

"I..I'm never really sure how to describe it. I guess, I don't push for entry, I wait, I try to find somewhere, a memory ... a place where you and I..." he stopped abruptly, "I mean in this case, you and I." He cleared his throat, "a place where we have something in common." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then opened them, "it's really hard to explain. You gave me an opening for some reason - I don't know why - but it was there...so I took advantage of it." He looked down at his hand, noticed the drying blood. "Dean..." he looked up at the other man, "the night you were dreaming...."

"I don't want to talk about that," he pulled his gaze away. "I ... I know how I stopped everyone else from poking around inside my head. I just... if you got through, whose to say others can't. I always thought the barriers were impenetrable." What he wanted, needed... was the security he used to have. He'd been so sure that no one could get in his mind, just cause they hadn't been able to.

"No one else could have," Sam looked down. "It's not my ego," he shrugged, "I only get sent to meet with people like you when it's difficult, people who have built up an efficient system for rebuking ... people like me." His eyes drifted up to meet Dean's again and he spoke quickly. "I didn't eavesdrop on your dream - I thought you needed me - I felt - some kind of want and from a distance I had trouble determining what kind of ... want it was." His eyes blinked a few times as he prepared to be yelled at again.

Dean pushed away from the counter and walked over to a cabinet, looking through it. There was nothing he needed, but he wanted to get away from Sam's watchful eyes. "Let's not do this. It was just a dream, it's over." No, he wasn't going to fucking mention that he had another, and that it was a whole helluvalot better waking to that than to some of his other dreams, ones he could not remember but which left him feeling a deep sense of loss and dread.

He turned, dry scrubbed his face. "There are no other specialists... like you? Fine. How do I... what can I do to strengthen the barriers in my mind, against you?" Yeah, he probably didn't have a prayer in hell that Sam would answer that.

"I suppose you could learn how to focus more, you have good defenses but they're broad. If you could focus your," he sighed, "anger at one point somehow, the point the Tel was trying to access then you could probably block. I don't know if it would work against me." He threaded his fingers together and leaned on his thighs, "Dean, when you told me - when you said not to - I hadn't. I can stay out of people's minds and I've not been near yours. That night it was so vivid - the dream - it just, it brought me there and then it was so good..." his mouth snapped shut and he shot up off the chair almost falling over. "I should go back to my bunk, I'm tired."

Dean gave a nod, wishing he didn't have as vivid a memory of it. "Minds are scary," he tried to laugh. "It was a good dream. Just one in a lot of good dreams," he clarified. "You sure you're ready to go?"

"Why are you lying?" Sam blinked up at Dean.

"Alright, minds aren't scary."

"About the dream," Sam insisted.

"You're the psychic, you tell me," Dean shot back.

Sam's eyes narrowed, "you said you didn't want me in your head."

"Why are you being difficult? It's not important, let's fucking go. You need to sleep," he said, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him up off the stool. He wasn't going to examine the dream, there was nothing to examine. Attraction was attraction, and he'd been attracted to Sam before he'd known who he was so why not after? There was no mystery, just a little embarrassment at getting caught.

Sam tugged his arm roughly out of Dean's grip. "I said - don't touch me." He stared into Dean's eyes for a few moments wondering why the man hated him so much, turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Letting out a deep sigh, Dean shook his head. He'd always had a suspicion that Telepaths were a dramatic bunch. Exhibit A had just walked out that door. Taking a look around, he shut the lights, and left the room.

Once Dean reached the elevator bank, he saw that Sam was sitting on the ground, head leaning back against the wall. "You're gonna make me carry you, aren't you?" Bending over, he started hefting the telepath up.

"I can walk, I'm just resting," Sam muttered but he wasn't stupid enough to refuse the help when he could barely stand. He slipped his arm over Dean's shoulders and grabbed on to his uniform. He spent the first couple of minutes trying incredibly hard to ignore the feel of Dean's body against his side.

"You're in the Adminn building too, right?" He was just trying to make conversation, he knew most of admin would were housed there. "You... blocking?" He searched Sam's drawn face. "It's not about me, are you protecting yourself?" he demanded.

"Not right now, I always walk around this time of night and make sure everything's ... okay." Sam was a little dizzy - it was strange - Jo had really blasted him when she blew. That was what it felt like - an explosion and if Sam wasn't ready, which he hadn't been, it hurt. "M'sorry - Jo kinda whacked me." He turned to look at Dean - forgetting how close his face was.

For a moment, Dean was sure they were gonna kiss. His mouth was so close to Sam's... so close, he practically felt his own lips tingling. When he lifted his eyes, he knew Sam must have realized he was focused on his mouth... again. Taking a breath, he helped Sam into the elevator and punched the button harder than necessary. "Well start blocking. Right now. This time it is about me."

"Okay," Sam mumbled as he concentrated, shutting things down slowly - it was more like constricting a flow than it was flipping a switch. Unfortunately, Dean's emotions and thoughts would be the last to go. He leaned more of his weight against Dean, he was so tired.

"Thanks." The doors hissed open and he got Sam out. Once they were out on the greens, he had his flashlight out, and was bearing more of Sam's weight. "Will I have to post a guard to make sure you don't leave your room until at least nine?" He got them inside the building then followed Sam's lead as to the location of his unit.

"No," Sam shook his head and then regretted it almost instantly. His knees gave out for a few seconds and he stumbled. "Sorry ... I need to sleep." He could barely keep his eyes open and the strangest sensation of caring was coming from Dean. Compassion, all muddled together with something else he couldn't quite interpret as his blocking continued to expand.

"Which one is it?" As soon as Sam pointed, Dean wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and held onto Sam's arm which was over his shoulder, practically carrying him to the door. Once Sam pressed his finger to the entry pad and the door opened, he hit the lights with his elbow and without asking permission got him all the way to the bed. The apartment was neat, everything in its place, clothes folded, nothing laying around. Not surprised Sam was anal, he helped him onto the bed.

There was a moment of awkwardness, before Dean said 'fuck it'. Sam needed rest to do his job, and he couldn't get it if he tried to sleep in clothes. Not making a deal about it, he helped get his shirt off, leaving his tee on. He refused to allow his eyes to linger where he knew the shirt would be stretched tightly across Sam's broad chest. He waited for Sam to undo his own pants, then crouched to the floor, efficiently getting Sam's shoes off, then dragging the pants off his body.

Their eyes met briefly. Dean felt the same electric heat he'd noticed when Sam helped him at the gym that one night. "Alright, get in." He lifted the sheets and blanket and could see Sam could barely keep his eyes open. "Sleep."

As soon as Sam's eyes drifted shut, Dean pulled the sheets up to his chin, and leaned in, lightly kissing his forehead. His eyes widened, he got up and hoped to hell Sam was asleep. Touching his lips, he walked out, a deep frown lining his brows.

As sleep washed over Sam he felt a touch on his forehead, familiar in some way and the name rolled into his mind Sammy - then his block took full effect and everything was gone.

* * *

Three days later, it was close to ten p.m., and Dean had changed out of his uniform. He was headed to the new bar that had opened, interested in seeing what they'd done with it. The instant he walked in, he felt a pull. Goddamnit, he wasn't the psychic, so why did he know almost before he saw him, that Sam was here?

Striding to the bar, he ordered a beer, his head turned, watching Sam's profile. They hadn't spoken, though they'd seen each other several times. The looks that passed between them were sexually charged... Dean couldn't deny that even if he wanted to. He had a planet with hundreds of people, and the one that he kept thinking about had to be Sam? How fucked up was that?

Sam tapped his wristband off and took a sip of his drink. It was nice to have a place to socialize, maybe hook up with someone and relieve a little tension. Of course, Sam's luck as usual dictated that he would find himself in the bar at the same time as Dean. For two people who were trying to avoid each other they seemed to spend an awful lot of time moving in out of the same space. Sam brushed his hair back off his face and looked around. He knew most of the crew well enough to chat with them, had met everyone - all in the line of work. His eyes moved back over the lines of Dean's back and Sam's mind drifted back to the first time he and Dean were in a bar together. There was an attraction between them, Sam couldn't deny that, although it was his intention to keep trying.

Taking the bottle, Dean turned, his eyes meeting and locking with Sam's. He felt heat creeping up his neck, took a breath and a long drink to cool himself off. He didn't look away though, couldn't. Hell... maybe he should just go over and talk to the guy. What could it hurt to talk? And if it looked like a single night was Sam's thing... maybe he could get rid of this fucking itch.

Sam tore his eyes away from Dean and looked along the bar. He nodded at Kevin, a younger man that he'd had limited involvement with. He was one of the more stable people on the crew which meant Sam had no reason to have a "work" relationship with him. He smiled and looked down at his drink. Kevin was an attractive man, it might be worth exploring an encounter with him. It certainly couldn't hurt Sam's well-being. Apart from almost constantly wondering what would have happened had he and Dean hooked up the first time they met, Sam had little opportunity to get any sexual relief. He brushed his hair back off his face and glanced back up at Kevin, lingering eye-contact - Kevin had nice eyes. Sam leaned back on his chair, sliding down a little, letting his legs fall open to the sides, relaxing and letting his intentions be known.

Taking his card and pocketing it, Dean stood up and started heading toward Sam. He had crossed half the distance between them when he realized something was going on between Sam and another man. The looks were unmistakable, and then the other guy was sitting right across from Sam, the pair of them sharing easy laughter. it wasn't at all like the stilted, sometimes very difficult or awkward conversations between himself and Sam.

Then the man was nodding... Kevin, Dean thought that might be the guy's name... and Sam got up. Yeah, he recognized a hook up only too well. He should be happy, or at least he should feel nothing, right? What was this claw-like feeling in his gut? He didn't like it, didn't like it one bit. And he didn't like that guy Kevin either. Not even a little.

Sam liked Kevin, he was funny, charming and pleasant to speak to. It didn't hurt that he was really attractive. They agreed quickly to leave the club, heading for Sam's room. Laughing, they picked up their jackets, Sam finished his drink and they headed toward the door. He was looking across at Kevin as they moved across the room toward the exit and almost ran into Dean. Sam's eyes widened and he licked his lips, "Dean... nice to see you out relaxing. Have you met Kevin?" He gestured to the man at his side.

Dean nodded noncommittally, "Kevin. You too, nice to see you relaxing." His gaze slid away, "I didn't mean to block your way. Have a good evening, gentlemen." Stepping to the side, he made way for them, still struggling against strange, unfamiliar feelings, but doing his damnedest to keep them under control, seeing as he was standing inches away from a telepath... the very telepath responsible for this feelings.

Sam could feel Dean's uncertainty - it was strange - but he didn't focus on it. Glancing quickly over his shoulder he raised an eyebrow and caught Dean's eyes for a moment then slipped his hand in Kevin's and pulled him out the door.

* * *

"No... no you can't take him, you can't have him. He's mine Dad! Mom! Mom?! Daaaad!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The world once blue and white turned black and red.

Dean jackknifed up, his heart racing, a cold sweat covering him from head to toe, his hand clenched around the small twin medallions hanging from the chain around his neck. He tried to focus, tried to remember, tried to fucking see through the clouds... a face... he needed to see a face. He tried, harder than he had in years, tried until tears were streaming down his face. Fucking telepaths... damn them... damn them... God damn them to hell.

Getting out of bed, he headed into the shower, letting the powerful spray of water pound into his face and head... wanting it to drive the memories away. No, not gone... but he wanted them to stop torturing him. The past was the past. Dead and gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Even though the sex with Kevin was _good_ , Sam was relieved when the man opted to return to his own quarters to sleep. There was very little that was more intimate for Sam than sleeping with someone. In his sleep, Sam had much less control over his telepathy. The last woman Sam had spent a significant amount of time with had told him that sleeping beside him was a bit like strapping herself into a roller coaster for the night. It was almost as though he shared dreams with whomever he was touching when he slept. Yet another strange quirk that Sam lived with.

He awoke early, relaxed, and headed toward his assigned mess room for breakfast. There were already Corps people eating, having a meal before their early morning duty call. He walked over to the counter and ladled out some of the oatmeal that had been made into one of the waiting bowls and added some milk then wandered over to an empty chair.

"Morning, Sam," a petite blond spoke when Sam settled at the table.

"Kathleen, how are you?" Kathleen was a botanist and rather excited at the prospect of working with the new species she might find on the planet. Her eagerness floated around her like a cloud. Sam smiled.

"Hey," she continued, "we were gossiping about Captain Winchester, Sam - " she grinned guiltily but Sam sensed no animosity, only curiosity.

"Ah yes, the universal past-time," he grinned and shoved some oatmeal in his mouth. 

Kathleen leaned closer, blue eyes focused on Sam's. "Do you know what he dreams about?"

Sam choked on his cereal and flailed his arm towards the water container until someone finally had the good sense to pour him a glass. "Thanks," he mumbled when the coughing finally subsided.

Kathleen wouldn't be deterred. "Well, Sam - it's not secret to those of us who've been on field maneuvers with the Captain before that he rarely sleeps and when he does he nearly always has nightmares." She nodded firmly, "I once heard him yell out in his sleep from half way across the camp. Sounded like _he's mine_ or something."

Sam kept eating his cereal as the crew discussed their theories for Dean's nightmares - and even Sam had to admit that some of their ideas were amusing. As lost pet, an unrequited love, a long-term animosity between soldiers resulting in a deadly battle. 

Sam laughed softly as he finished his cereal. People would gossip about anything. He made a mental note to ask Dean about his nightmares when he saw him.

The day passed quickly for Sam, he spent a large portion of it with Crewman Harvelle as she came back to reality. They spoke about her family, friends she had left behind on earth, her fears. Sam was exhausted but pleased with her progression.

So - he tumbled into bed early and fell asleep quickly. Not even the incessant thrumming of the crew's emotions could keep him awake.

Sam's peaceful sleep didn't last. In the middle of the night he was accosted with an almost unbearable outpouring of pain and fear. He jolted awake so quickly that he got tangled in his bedsheets and wasted precious moments trying to escape his bed and reach his wrist band. He tapped the screen and punched up Dean's contact sending a voice contact. He was only give the option to leave a message because of the time.

"Dean ... I think ... I _know_ something is wrong. I think there maybe have been a death, I felt it...I have no idea what the circumstances are but - the shock waves from the ... victim were intense. I'm going to try and follow it - meet me in Section M as soon as you can."

He tapped the screen once more and started to get dressed. He knew it was likely that Dean was up and he should probably wait for his reply but he couldn't. He slipped out of his compartment and headed towards the emotions he had sensed. He was almost there when another wave of feeling hit him, worse than before. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, curling his body into a small ball, sobbing, fingers clawing at the floor above his head.

Following the green laser-like lines flashing on his view screen set to locate Sam by the emissions from his wrist band, Dean jogged to find him. He looked a little disheveled, having pulled on some jeans and a tee, but in light of the time, it was to be expected. A full security team was also heading toward Section M. 

When Dean arrived, he dropped down next to Sam, ignoring the clenching in his gut that shouldn't be there in light of his rank and experience. He shook Sam's shoulder, then grabbed his wrists before he could damage his nails and fingers ... the way he was clawing at the hard concrete. "Sam... Sam... talk to me. Separate yourself and talk to me," he insisted, slowly rolling Sam onto his back.

Tears were streaming down Sam's face, he shook his head, "c..can't" His arm whipped out to the side slamming hard against the floor as his body jerked up. _So much anger, fear and anger_ Everything was mixed up in his head, there was some sort of overpowering presence, like a being but the planet had been declared clear of life forms. Sam rolled toward Dean, "you have to find him, he's ..." he shuddered and curled against Dean's legs, "took him." His arms slipped around Dean's waist, clinging like he was drowning.

"What?" Dean's mouth dropped slightly open at the way he was being hugged, and naturally the security details had to arrive at this moment. "Search door to door, until we figure out who is being attacked," he ordered, scattering the men who started to sweep the section and knock on doors.

Almost reluctantly, Dean put his own arms around Sam. "Alright they're searching. Do you know _who_ it is, Sam?" He bit his lip, feeling Sam shaking and knowing it had to be bad. "Can you see anything, feel anything that would be a clue?" He didn't realize he'd started to stroke the telepath's back, trying to sooth him.

Fingers curling into Dean's shirt, Sam buried his face against him, pulling himself closer as Dean's hand moved soothingly on his back. He struggled to reach out to the person they were searching for. _Hurt, pain, taken_ , "taken", Sam murmured against Dean's thigh. Squeezing his eyes shut Sam pulled as close to Dean as he could, drawing energy from him, letting Dean's mind protect them both. "Roberts," he whispered, "s..scientist...geo.." Pushing back from Dean's body, Sam tried to crawl towards the door, arms collapsing under him. "Outer rim... section .." He cried out, body writhing in pain, blood trickling from his nose as he tried to pull himself along the ground.

Quickly transmitting the information so that all available security personnel were headed that way, Dean followed Sam. He'd never seen anything like this, any telepath get so pulled into another's emotions, though he'd heard about it. He wanted to pick him up, put him somewhere safe, take him to the lab which would block the emotions attacking him, but he couldn't. They both had their duty.

Crouching close to him, hand on his back, he asked. "What about the assailant, can you feel anything from him? Any clue as to who is doing this? Sam?" 

Sam took in a few deep breaths, wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve. 'Not us..." he mumbled, "was here before." Moaning softly and rolling away from Dean shaking his head. "I can't, I can't... " he muttered over and over trying to block out the flood of sensation. He pushed up to his feet suddenly, lurching forward and running for the door, stumbled and fell hard against the wall. "Dean," he murmured, "he's dead." Sam let out a long breath and leaned against the wall, eyes closing slowly.

Dean quickly relayed the new information, advising they might be dealing with someone not of their group, not one of the colonists or scientists. "I hope you're wrong," he said, now following and forcing Sam to accept his help. "I hope to God you're wrong."

But inside him, Dean had no doubt that Sam was right.

One hour later, they were in Roberts' empty unit. His door had been found open, his unit a mess with tables turned over, nail marks on the floor and blood. It reminded Dean of how he'd found Sam, clawing on the ground, like he was being dragged by his legs.

The sniffer units were called and were searching for Roberts, or his body, since Sam reconfirmed that the man was dead. When there was nothing more that could be done and it was close to four a.m., Dean motioned for Sam to get up off the sofa, where he was still holding the napkin he'd used to clean the blood off his nose. "Come on, let's get out of here. You look like you could use a drink."

"Could use a lot more than that," Sam said wryly. He stood and stuffed the napkin in his pocket wandering slowly toward the door. "Any sign of him... the body?" Sam's shoulder sagged a little, he felt like he'd let the man down. 

Dean shook his head 'no,' "it's like he disappeared. The sniffers are working on it." He put an arm around Sam's body. "I got pizza and beer, if you're interested. If it hasn't burned..." He knew he wasn't gonna sleep for a couple of hours, "unless you want to hit the sack."

Sam nodded, pulling away slightly, "Dean, I'm ... I'm too tired to block you..." He looked down, eyes sad. "So maybe... you don't want me around..."

"If what you're sensing gets 'too interesting,' then you can tell me and we'll deal with it. I don't think you're in any shape to be alone right now, just call it a feeling." Looking into the depths of Sam's eyes, something stirred inside him. Like a memory on the very edges of his mind, like they'd been there before, had pizza and beer or... something. He shook it off, and started walking. "Up to you bro."

Sam blinked, _bro_? "Okay," his eyes moved over Dean's back as he moved to catch up, falling into step just behind him. They covered the ground to Dean's quarters silently, each man lost in his own thoughts. Sam's mind was still feeling almost bruised, fragile and he focused on the rhythmic sound of their footsteps in the empty corridors. He felt awkward once the door to Dean's quarters slid open and they stepped inside. He slid to the side of the room and leaned against the wall, fingers rubbing at his temple. Dean's quarters were spartan, nothing really personal about them - all regulation. Sam's eyes followed Dean as the man moved around the room.

The large wall screen was on, flickering with reports of events in various quadrants of space. It had been what he'd been watching before Sam's alert came in. "Sit down," Dean nodded toward the sofa. "You can shut it off or find something more interesting, if you want."

Dean walked to the small open kitchen and looked at the cooking unit. "Thank God for auto shut off. This here is freshly frozen pizza, all the way from earth. The real deal," he said, pulling it out and drawing in the mouthwatering smell. "You're thinking, how can I think of food at a time like this," he mused, getting plates and setting them on the counter, then moving to the cooling cabinet to grab some beers.

Sam moved over to the couch and sat down, "gotta eat and it smells really good." He offered Dean a slight smile and shrugged out of his jacket. He frowned, shoving his sleeve up when his arm hurt and finding a large bruise forming under his skin. He sighed and let the sleeve drop again, "I need danger pay for this assignment."

"Don't hold your breath," Dean chuckled. He brought the beers an pizza over and sat down on the armchair across from Sam. "Take a bite, it's my secret cure-all," he nodded, very seriously. Picking up a slice of pizza, he took a big bite, not ashamed to make some noise to show how much he liked it. 

Licking the red sauce off his thumb, he sat back. There was a lot more to talk about, regarding the possible death, but he'd leave that for tomorrow. "This would be perfect if there was a game on."

Sam laughed softly and leaned forward to take a piece of pizza. It tasted good and he nodded his appreciation toward Dean. "You brought this on board?" He grinned and took another bite. It was funny, the things that were important to people, things that remind them of home. For Sam it was always smells, they always jogged him memories. Picking up his beer he took a long drink and put it back on the table. "You don't sleep much, do you?" He took another bite of pizza, chewing slowly as he looked over at Dean.

"Sleeping is overrated. I'll get a lot of sleep when I'm six feet under," he answered. "As for the pizza, let's just say there's a freezer full with my name on it. Everyone knows not to touch it," he laughed, but he was serious. "The penalty for breaking into something that belongs to an officer is court marshal." He took another bite, and met Sam's eyes, sensed something. It made him a little more cautious, a little wary.

"You have nightmares?" Sam blurted out and then took another bite of pizza. He let his eyes slip to the table in front of him, watching the drops of condensation form on the outside of the beer bottle.

Dean sucked his breath in. "Is this a professional visit?"

"No," Sam put his pizza back down for a moment, "just curious - it's why I have trouble sleeping sometimes. I remember things...well, sort of - not really, it's like my brain is trying to get something to come back." He shrugged a shoulder and picked his pizza up again.

"Yeah... I know the feeling," he admitted at last. They'd been worse and more frequent lately. "Some things, you just learn to live with." The medallions felt like they were burning a spot in his chest. He licked his lips and tried to shake away the feelings that plagued him. "What sorta things?" He took a bite of his pizza, chewing slowly, not really expecting an answer.

Sam's brow furrowed as he chewed. "It's strange," he swallowed the rest of his mouthful of food, "sometimes, I almost think it might be someone else's memory and that I may have absorbed somehow. It feels like being taken away from something, somewhere," _someone_ , he thought but it was all so vague. Sam shook his head and took a mouthful of beer, "s'good," he mumbled, "my throat is sore -was I yelling a lot?"

Sam's words, spoken lightly, felt heavy on Dean's heart. Being torn away, that was it exactly. He rubbed his chest with his palm, the lump under his tee giving him a little comfort... a little truth. He blinked. "No, not too much," he forced a smile, "maybe you were doing something else that gave you a sore throat." Somehow he'd known Sam would blush, like he had the day Dean caught him outside his office, listening in on his dream.

Sam's eyes widened as his cheeks grew pink and he looked down smiling. He supposed being teased was marginally better than being detested. Trying to change the subject, Sam gestured at Dean with the remains of the slice of pizza he head in his hand, "what's under your shirt?"

"Scuse me?" Dean raised his brow.

Sam blushed even more and swallowed the food in his mouth, "I _meant_ around your neck, you fiddle with it a lot, touch it." He looked down at the lump under Dean's t-shirt, "it's important," he blinked a few times slowly, "and ... is it... in your dream?"

"I don't... touch it a lot," he dropped his hand and realized its exactly what he was doing. "It's not a dream. It's..." he never talked about this, and now, against his better judgment, he was talking to a tel. "It's the only _real_ thing in my life," he nodded. Feeling Sam's gaze, he reached under his shirt and showed him. "And if any of this get out of this room, I will personally make your life hell," he added.

Shrugging Sam got up and moved towards Dean, "you already make my life hell, so I have nothing to lose," he smiled and brushed his hair back from his face. Kneeling down beside Dean he held out his hand, "may I?" When Dean nodded Sam let the pendents fall against his palm. He leaned closer to look at them, fingers sliding the two different pieces apart slowly, "what are they?" He looked up, realizing too late how close he was to Dean's body. Blinking he felt the warm puff of Dean's breath on his cheek.

Usually he wanted to tug his medallions out of strangers' hands, like when he had to give it up in areas where you couldn't wear anything metal on your body. And yet, it almost didn't bother him, seeing Sam's long fingers move over them. "They're saints. Saint Anthony." Dean swallowed over the pain and pleasure the medallions gave him. They represented everything he'd had, and lost. "They didn't really help when it counted," he said a little bitterly, gently tugging the medallions out of Sam's hand.

A sense of loneliness washed over Dean, just like when he'd wake from his dreams. He started to lean in, his mouth brushing over Sam's before he came to his senses and pulled back. 

Sam licked his lip slowly where Dean's had just touched, his body tingling with something pleasant, unusual, _more_. He looked up at Dean's profile, tilted his head slightly feeling a mess of emotions every-so-slightly. Dean was always so guarded. "That felt ... good."

"That an invitation?" Dean asked, gripping Sam's shoulders and slanting his mouth down over his again, this time with more certainty. One hand slid upwards, cupping the back of Sam's neck and head, as he kissed him again, this time pushing his tongue past those lips he'd been thinking about far too much. He groaned lightly, his tongue sliding home, into silky wet heat of Sam's mouth, exploring every corner, stroking Sam's tongue, his pallet, learning that yeah... sometimes reality could compete with a dream. 

Sam's eyes closed, his mouth parting quickly for Dean. Their lips moved together easily and Sam's breath left his body in a moan. His long fingers curled over Dean's thigh gently, to touch, to hold himself steady. Sucking on Dean's tongue, _so good_ , he tilted his head back giving Dean as much as he wanted, letting the kiss deepen and the sensation run through his body. Dean's emotions started to flow towards Sam even as he tried to honor Dean's request and push them back.

It didn't escape Dean that Sam was on his knees, that he could just undo his pants and have that scarlet mouth wrapped around his cock, like he'd wanted for some time. But despite the fact his body hardened, that he was more physically aware of Sam than he had been of anyone else in the world, right now... right now he needed to chase away the despair, that sense of impending doom, and it wasn't sex that he needed.

Slowly lifting Sam up off the floor as he got up off the chair and pulling him up flush against his body, Dean kissed him harder. His free hand roamed over Sam's back as he stepped forward, getting him to the sofa, and pulling him down next to him. Breaking the kiss, he swallowed, searched Sam's face, then took him in his arms again, rubbing his mouth across Sam's. Every touch, every contact between them sent heat rushing through his system. Fuck... they weren't even...

Sam's hands were trembling slightly, as they slipped around Dean's body, fingers curling into the firm muscles on the other man's back. The heat of his mouth was almost scalding and Sam's body responded quickly, his breath quickened in his chest as his heart started to thump faster deep within him.

He licked across the seam of Sam's mouth, then waited for Sam to show him his tongue, tangling his with Sam's and eventually sucking Sam's inside his mouth. Images started to barrage his mind. Telepaths he was forced to see, trying to tell him he imagined his childhood. That his beliefs, his memories were wrong. Trying to tamper, to change them. With each kiss, he banished the images, groaning, silently pleading for Sam to help him, help him silence those voices, those doubters, those liars.

It was different from anything Sam had ever experienced, as though touching Dean, being so intimately linked with him had started a swirl of memories between them. He could feel Dean's fear as their tongues twined together, his certainty that what he remembered was _the truth_. Sam pressed his body closer, breath stuttering in his chest, _they should never have ... they tampered with his memories,_ It was dizzying, the heat of Dean's mouth, the firm presence of his body, Sam moaned softly into the other man's mouth, desperation pushing him to crush his mouth against Dean's even as his mind struggled to understand. His hand ran down Dean's side, over the curve of his hip, and grasped Dean's hand tightly threading his long fingers through the other man's. He gasped into their kiss, body jolting under the surge of _want_ ; Dean needed the truth, _wanted_ ... Sam's eyes fluttered open and he yanked his hand up pressed it against Dean's chest pushing him back, breaking their kiss. "What... what's happening?" his lips moved against Dean's, his hand feeling the quick thumping of Dean's heart.

Licking his lips, still tasting Sam on them, Dean looked down at the hand on his chest. He could have sworn... no he damned well knew Sam was kissing him back. Releasing him, he cocked his head. "What? Do I owe you an apology?" Had he misunderstood? No Goddamit, he played it back in his head and knew it had been mutual.

"No, no," Sam had no intention of giving Dean the idea that he _hadn't_ liked the kissing, the touching. Eyes locked with Dean's Sam leaned forward and brushed his lips softly back and forth a few times across the other man's mouth. When he pulled back he let his hand slide back to Dean's hip. "It's just - the," his eyelids fluttered and he leaned forward sliding his arms around Dean's body and pulling them as close together as he could. It was all so confusing, whirling in his mind -but he couldn't get close enough. Dean made him feel as though he would make everything alright, fix anything he could, keep Sam safe. Resting his chin on Dean's shoulder he took a deep breath, "the feelings, your feelings - like I knew parts of it - or it was some puzzle we ... shit ... I don't know." 

They were so close, bodies still touching, Sam's hand searing his hip, his mouth tantalizing him, moving so close against his throat as Sam talked, making him want to dip down and steal another kiss. "I don't know." He didn't feel exactly like Sam described, but he did feel like some of the dreams had been chased away, that Sam could do that. And yet years of distrust of telepaths kept him from asking Sam for help. 

Dean pulled away, his gaze lingering one last time on Sam's mouth, but resisting. "Probably we're both tired. Look at the time," he stayed on the sofa, but reached across the table for his pizza. "This... eating pizza... it feels... I can't explain it." Scoffing at himself, he took a large bite. Sure he was still very aware of Sam, and one touch could set him on fire all over again, but that 'flight or fight' instinct was rising, and right now... it was pointing toward flight.

"Look at the time?" Sam's eyes widened. "I think I can help you with your nightmares, I could stay here tonight," he slipped his hand over Dean's thigh. "There are things I can do ..." he watched Dean's face for a reaction.

Chewing the mouthful of pizza, he looked at Sam's hand then met his eyes. "You mean between the sheets?" he spoke around the food he was chewing. "I've been around, I don't think you could surprise me." 

Sam sighed, his eyes a little sad and stood up, "okay, Dean." He leaned over and picked up his coat, "thanks for the pizza, it was really good and thanks for all your help." He swung his coat around his shoulders and slipped it on. "You know where to find me - if you ever want to stop fucking around and talk to me like I'm a person."'

"Did I hurt your feelings?" Dean didn't look at him. "In you're line of work, I'd have thought you'd have seen much worse." He swallowed his pizza, wiped his mouth and reached for the bottle. "Goodnight," he said, in a barely audible voice.

Sam walked over and smoothed his hand over Dean's hair and let his hand slip to the other man's cheek. His thumb moved softly over the dusting of freckles there, and he leaned down and pressed his lips to Dean's. "Goodnight." He turned and walked to the door, touched the keypad and left. 

Dean leaned his head back against the sofa and let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He really would have preferred it if Sam had reamed him, or kicked something on his way out. It scared him that he hadn't. Made him wonder what was next. But even as he closed his eyes, he found he wasn't sorry he'd kissed him. It just couldn't happen again, and that made him all sorts of sorry.

Sam avoided Dean for a few days and immersed himself in his work. Harvelle was well on her way to a full recovery, and the rest of the crew and science team seem to be doing quite well adjusting to their new surroundings. His biggest worry was Dean Winchester. Their last encounter had left Sam with many more questions than he had answers and a rather unfortunate ache in the pit of his belly. Ache not-withstanding, he needed to find out more about Dean's past so he could do his _job_ and help the man.

That's how he came to be accessing the Tel Unit database searching for Dean Winchester's files. He was quite certain he had read everything that was available prior to his first meeting with Dean but back then, he hadn't been looking for a possible memory wipe. He tapped through the security system - taking full advantage of his security clearance. Memory wipes weren't done often, they were unreliable, the results often unpredictable and dangerous. Sam had heard of people being so traumatized by them that they were never the same again. 

His breath caught in his chest when he saw Dean Winchester's file. Sam leaned forward in his chair chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully, finger hovering over the flashing file. He tapped the file, brushing the photo of Dean to the side of his screen and reading the words, eyes widening. He was ten years old at the time of the first sessions to wipe his memory, and he'd been strongly resistant. It was barbaric to do that to a child, would have repercussions their entire life. His blood ran cold when he read the name of the authorizing officer; Admiral John Winchester. Dean's father.

It only took Sam about three minutes to decide what he would do next. He tapped his wrist band and sent a voice message to Dean, "Listen, Dean, I need to speak with you - it's an... emergency. I'll be waiting in my quarters." Sam tapped the wristband off and leaned back in his chair sighing. He was _not_ looking forward to this discussion.

What the hell? Sam hadn't even given him any details, and he wanted the meeting in his own quarters? It was very strange, and made Dean feel uneasy. He was _not_ going to Sam Wesson's quarters, that much he knew. He pushed a button and spoke into the communications device.

Five minutes later, there was a detail of six Space Corps personnel knocking at Sam's door. The instant it slid open, Smith stepped forward. "Captain Winchester asked us to escort you to _his_ office, where you can explain the nature of your emergency. Sir."

Sam rolled his eyes and stood up, "what an ass," he muttered. As he followed along with the _guards_ \- because that's basically the idea Dean wanted to give everyone - Sam's frustration grew into anger. He didn't deserve to be humiliated when he was simply trying to help Dean...make sleep something he was able to enjoy once again. By the time they arrived at Dean's office he was furious. He stood back and let the guards tap the keypad requesting entry.

When the door slid open Sam stalked inside and waited until it slid shut behind him. "You're an arrogant son-of-a-bitch." He folded his arms and stared at Dean.

Dean looked up from the paperwork he hadn't been reading. "Tell me something I haven't heard. What is the nature of your emergency? You know damn well under protocol you should have stated it." And from his tone, Dean had known damned well that there was no emergency. 

"Fine, under Tel Unit authority, you can check my ID and security level now if you'd like," he spat the last part a little more hostilely than he had intended, "I will be forced to relieve you of your command and confine you to your quarters if you won't submit to a Tel examination." Sam took a step closer and let his arms fall to his sides. "I have reason to believe your memory has been tampered with and, therefore, your command capability may be compromised." He waited until the full weight of his words had sunk in and then sat down across from Dean. "Or - if you'd like - you can _suck_ it up and talk to me ... as a friend ... let me work with you and we can get to the bottom of your nightmares. Your choice, but don't waste anymore of my time." 

Dean stood up. "You sonovabitch. I told you anything said in that room stayed there. Sonova..." he wiped his forearm across his desk, sending the papers scattering to the ground. "You have no right, none," he said through gritted teeth. Tel Unit is the one who tampered, you can't complain your own Goddamn brothers in arms got into my head." He put both palms on his desk and leaned toward Sam. "And don't, not for one moment, think you're my _friend_."

"Fine, I'll submit my order to relieve you of Command to the on-duty Captain." Sam tapped his wristband. 

"You think you're gonna get someone better?" He challenged, his gaze locking with Sam's, not hiding his hostility. This time, unlike on Beta Centauri, it was personal.

"Better than what? A man who's so wrapped up in himself, so completely cut off that he can't even acknowledge when someone is trying to _respect_ his authority - by giving him an easier option?" Sam shoved the chair back and stepped up to Dean, " _You_ choose - I'm going to help you - there are two ways to do it - the way that ruins your career - or the way that means you simply have to stop being such a coward and spend a few minutes in a room with me." He poked his finger against Dean's chest, "you've got about thirty seconds to decide then I'm going to the Duty Commander."

"Sonova..." his jaw pulsed. "Step away from me, right now." Taking a few calming breaths, Dean sat down, eyes cold, stony. He tried to shore up all his mental defenses, the way he'd done to the others over the years, hoping, praying that this bastard he'd let in on his secret would find himself locked out.

"You've got about twenty seconds to decide which means you _tell_ me which way we're doing this. I have ethics, I won't read you without your explicit permission. It's not an attack, I'm trying to help."

"My explicit permission? Through blackmail? This is the code of ethics of your Tel Unit?" Dean glared at him. "You have it. _Under protest._ "

Sam grabbed the chair and swung it around to face Dean's desk again. He extended his hand across Dean's desk, palm up, "give me your hand."

Palm pressed flat on the table, he slid it forward toward Sam, not putting it into his hand but hoping to force him to just put his hand over is own. The muscle in his jaw jumped, as he clenched his teeth harder. 

"Do you have to make _everything_ about _control_?" Sam slammed his hand down on Dean's,grabbed it and flipped it over so their palms were together. He curled his fingers over the side of Dean's hand. "Do you wanna just punch me and get it over with? Would that make it easier for you to do this?" Sam glared at him.

"Look who's a great mind reader." Clasped insid Sam's palm, Dean's hand remained stiff as a board. 

"You know the routine, same as last time - you want to let me in - or you want me to _pull_ \- you know I hate doing it- but I will if it's what I have to do to help you. Which is it?" Sam's eyes were locked on Dean's face.

"You don't have to be psychic to know my answer. Fuck you Sam... pull... just like _they_ did, for years... over and over, so you fucking pull... and then you get out of my life." He'd made up his mind to transfer out, he'd put his request in as soon as Sam was through with him.

Sam sat there, holding Dean's hand in his, his mind on the verge of _pulling_. And he couldn't do it. He swallowed a few times, rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip and looked up at Dean. He was going to leave, Sam could feel it so strongly it hurt; Dean was going to transfer away. It shouldn't matter, just a short time ago Sam had no idea who the man was but, now? The idea of never seeing Dean again, those words, _get out of my life_. It broke something inside Sam.

Turning Dean's hand, Sam pressed it back down on to the desk and slowly pulled his hand back until his fingers fell off the tips of Dean's fingers. "I'll have my resignation from my position for you tomorrow." He stood up and went over to the door, pausing with his hand hovering over the keypad. "I.. I'm sorry." He pressed his thumb to the pad and left breaking into a run in the hallway and not stopping until he got to his quarters.

Dean sat there, for a long time, motionless, hand flat on the table, shaking slightly. He should be happy. He got what he wanted. No more probing, no more pulling from him, just peace. He should be ecstatic. Even if another tel would replace Sam, it wouldn't be Sam... it wouldn't be anyone who could break him that way. Any minute now, any minute... that sense of elation, of a sense of victory, would be here.

Dean didn't know how he'd fallen asleep, but he knew how he'd awakened. In a cold sweat, heart thundering in his chest, hands gripping the sheets, to the sound of his voice pleading, begging ... begging that _he_ not be taken away from him. That they bring him back. Only it was it was ten times worse tonight. A thousand times worse. Like his dream was laced with images of Sam leaving. His eyes, that's all he remembered really, but it hurt. It fucking hurt way more than it should.

Disoriented, confused, Dean pulled on jeans and barely pulled a shirt on, not even buttoning it as he walked out of his unit. He ran... ran like a black cloud was chasing him, like something terrible would happen if he didn't get there fast enough. And then he was pounding at Sam's door, bypassing the keypad that would identify him.

Sam stumbled out of bed, accosted by Dean's emotions as they rolled down the hallways before him like a tidal wave. He was half way to the door when he heard the pounding. Tripping on the sheets he almost fell and slammed his hand on the keypad to open the door. 

The instant the door slid open, Dean threw his arms around Sam, holding him close, flush up against his body, burying his face in the crook of Sam's neck. "Help me..." The despair had never had such edge, never cut him so deeply. "Don't leave. Don't leave me, Goddamit. I know I'm hard, I don't get along... but don't fucking leave me... please," he said on the verge of a sob, his fingers biting into Sam, holding him like he was afraid he would slip out of his grasp.

Sam staggered back under Dean's weight, his arms moving quickly to hold onto Dean. He blinked, pulling Dean backwards with him into the room so the door slid shut. Tugging, stumbling, half carrying the other man, Sam moved them across the room and sat Dean down on the edge of the bed, prying his arms from around his neck. He sat next to Dean, hands on the other man's shoulders and shook him gently until he looked up at Sam. 

"Dean...the dream, it was ... I felt it - it was in my mind as you were on your way here." His thumbs moved gently over Dean's cheeks, watching as the man calmed ever-so-slightly. Not enough though. He pulled him back into his arms, "let me in?" He whispered the request against Dean's ear. "Let me help?"

Dean was shaking. It had never been this bad, this real. If ever Sam had a reason to have him relieved of duty, it was now. He leaned into Sam's hand, the comfort of his finger rubbing against his face, the warmth of his body... Dean just realized Sam was shirtless, probably had just jumped out of bed for him. "Alright... Alright..." he agreed, swallowing hard. "I'll let you in, you don't have to pull."

"I wouldn't do that to you..." he waited until Dean looked up at him, "never without permission." He nodded and shifted so that he could open his arms if Dean wanted to lean into him more, he smiled softly when Dean leaned into his body and slipped his arm around Sam's waist. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him close, "S'okay, Dean."

Sam opened his mind and felt Dean do the same and the images began. It was like being sucked down through water, to the bottom of a pool he couldn't fight his way out of. There were flashes of things, images Sam didn't understand. _Hands_ , always hands, clinging, tearing...trying to hold onto ... It switched again, Dean arguing with his father, a child, a teenager, a man, but always back to the child. Sam gasped in a breath, pressing his hand to Dean's hair. _Loss_ \- overpowering loss, Sam could feel tears welling up in his eyes, the emptiness in his chest - that space you wake up with the morning after you lose someone and it all comes crashing back down on you. 

Dean was young, smaller, a child, screaming with fear and anger. He was railing against ... a man... taller .... respected. Sam sniffed and blinked his eyes open wiping his face on his sleeve; blood from his nose again. There was more here. 

He focused on Dean as much as he could. He was so young, so _hurt_. Sam's heart ached for them both. His fingers grasped Dean's hair. _Both of them_. His brow furrowed as his mind and Dean's mind struggled to put the pieces together.

For the first time, Dean could see the things he knew, but which had been locked up tight in his brain and in his dreams. He clung tighter to Sam as the images came, hitting him like direct punches to the gut. Things were mixed up, dates, the order of things, but when Sam released the hold he had on his mind, Dean sagged against Sam. "Oh my God... oh my God... that was my brother, that was my brother. And my dad... he took him..." Tears streamed down his face. "He took him because I... oh God... because I loved him _too much_. It's my fault... he took him and it's my fault. Oh God... why didn't he give _me_ away. Why him? He didn't do anything... he was... how old...six." 

He tore himself away from Sam, shame and sadness washing over him. He rubbed his hand over his face, wiping at the tears. 

Moving closer, Sam ran his hands over Dean's shoulders, his back, his hair, as he ran through all the emotions that were tearing him apart. Sam's mind kept drifting back to the faces of the brothers - the memory tugged at him and he shook it off again as he tried to focus on Dean. He focused the feelings he had for Dean, the calm that Dean brought to him when they were touching, the way he felt safe near Dean. He sent it all to Dean, wrapped the other man's mind in what he could.

The faces came back time and time again, so familiar, it was right there. Just outside his reach - the name he couldn't remember. "Dean... how do you... feel?" His hand stilled on Dean's back, pressing his palm into the small of his back, "Dean, I think," the faces were so familiar, "I think it was..." A knife of heat sliced through Sam's head, his body jolted and he fell forward off the bed lying face down at Dean's feet. "Another... Wilkens...taken - go now, Dean..."

Sam's body curled in on itself, his hands moving to cover his head trying to soothe the pain. "Go now... s..s..ection..." blood was pouring from Sam's nose, his shaking hands grabbing fistfuls of his own hair. "T". He passed out.

"Shit!" Dean was out the door, running to his unit. The minute he was inside, he grabbed his communications device and relayed the information. "Go!" Grabbing his gun and putting on shoes, he ran out again, directing that a medic go check on Sam Wesson.

When dawn came, Dean was overseeing the scientists' efforts to bore holes and conduct their analysis at the site of the body. Wilkins had been walking his pet when he'd been 'taken.' There was blood and mud tracks from where he was walking all the way to the sinkhole in an uncultivated area near Section M, where the first victim had been taken from and never found.

They'd found vines, thick vines, half outside the sinkhole, some of the leaves soaked in blood. They'd dug seven feet before they found the body, with the vines tangled around the victim's neck, a thick branch stabbed through his heart, and a horrified look frozen on his face. It was like some grade B movie from the twentieth centurey, and Dean wouldn't believe the vines were 'responsible.' Still, having incomplete knowledge of alien life forms on this planet, the vines had been taken to the lab, and this site would be the location of a major research project.

Dean had ordered a curfew for any activities outside the buildings, and all doors were doubly secured. People could go to restaurants in their own complex, but not walk out outside once night fell. The only exceptions were based on need.


	5. Chapter 5

It was an hour before Sam regained consciousness, a day before he was able to get to his feet without feeling nauseous and weak. He asked after Dean when he'd first awakened and was told the Captain had checked on Sam once. Sam wasn't surprised.

When he finally managed to get back to his quarters, it was horrible. When he walked in the door, everything was as it had been the night it all happened. The sheets were dragged across the floor; Sam's blood had dried in a pool near the foot of the bed. His chest clenched around his heart and he turned around and headed out again, he needed a drink.

The bar was quiet, after all, two people had been snatched out of a community that was supposed to be safe. As he walked in the door, he immediately recognized the hard line of Dean's shoulders. He froze halfway into the bar, turned, almost left and then turned back and walked over to Dean. He sat down with a stool between them and looked down at his hands. When the bartender moved over he ordered a whiskey and tapped his fingers on the bar until it arrived. After he took a sip he tilted his head and looked over at Dean. "How are you doing?"

"You tell me." Dean didn't look over at him. Weird, but he'd known the instant Sam walked into the bar, had a feeling. God, he'd needed help last night, but now he regretted... He lifted his glass and knocked back half his drink, wishing it could wash away not his memories, but Sam's ... of what he'd seen inside his head.

Sam looked back down at his drink. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry ... about what happened to you." Sam wasn't even sure what Dean remembered, how much he had managed to put together in his mind.

He snorted, then looked at him. "I appreciate your professionalism, but save it. I know what you think. I know what I'd think." A muscle pulsed in his jaw.

Blinking, Sam looked back over at Dean. He frowned, "wha... what I think?"

"Yeah, you have thoughts, you think, right?" Giving him a surly look, he motioned for another drink, just as he lifted the glass to his mouth.

Sam slammed his glass down on the bar. "What is wrong with me? Why do you hate me so much?" His eyes were blazing, fixed on Dean's profile.

"I don't hate you. I don't feel anything, not about you. Not about anyone. I think we just established it's for the best, that there's a good reason for it." What had he done? What had he done to his sweet younger brother. The visions only showed little snippets. Had he hurt him? Had he been some sick..... Tortured by thoughts that had eaten his insides from the moment he left Sam's place, a feeling of self revulsion swept over him. He didn't like it any better than the loneliness he was used to.

Sam couldn't take anymore of it. He had no idea why Dean was so important to him, he wasn't sure if he even cared anymore. It was too hard. He shoved his drink away with the tips of his fingers. "It will get better, you will start to understand it now - it's not like you think. You're still putting all the pieces together." Sam's eyes closed for a moment. "I know you're angry, Dean, embarrassed, scared about what happened..."

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Crossing his arms on the bar top, Dean leaned forward, deep in thought. "It's not how I thought it was... it's not as clear cut as... What if I was a monster? What if I hurt him? What if that's why they fucking took him away, they had damned good reason. You want me to live with this," he sniffed, wiping his hand over his face and looking away from the bar tender. "You think I can sweep this under a carpet." He sniffed again. "I know you're not supposed to judge, but Christ Sam, if you're not judging, you're not human."

"You think that's the worst thing I've ever learned about someone?" Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You think in all the years I've been reading minds... a man, loving his brother too much is the worst thing I've seen?"

"What if I touched him, huh?" His gaze turned hostile. "What if I hurt him? That's not the worst thing you've seen? It should be." Pushing away from the bar, Dean grabbed his card. He took a step, then stopped. "I can't do this. I thought it would make it better, but it made it worse. I can't... but thanks for... thanks."

"Dean," Sam stood up and moved quickly grabbing Dean's arm. "He was okay!" His hair fell in his eyes as he yanked Dean back towards him, "he was screaming because he didn't want to be taken from you." The faces, small, young, smooth skin, so familiar. "He didn't want to be taken away, think, Dean, he was screaming your name." Sam was out of breath when he finished, and realized he was grabbing Dean's arm painfully hard. He let go, stepping back.

Dean listened for a moment, then shrugged him off. "Yeah, he was. And maybe he didn't know any better. You should know that better than anyone." Telepath, psych... he had to know. He licked his lips. "Look, it's not your problem. It's mine, and I am not in a sharing mood right now."

Sam realized they were still standing there, in the middle of the bar, not that anyone seemed to care. "I want to come and stay with you tonight."

"Out of the question. Didn't you hear me?"

"I heard you," Sam looked down, his shoulders sagging almost imperceptibly. He held his hands out, shrugged and turned to sit back down.

Nodding, Dean left him, long strides getting out the door quickly. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and had his head down as he headed to his room, troubled in ways he hadn't been in years.

* * *

Sam went back to his own quarters long enough to change into sweat pants and a t-shirt then headed back out. Five minutes later he was standing in front of Dean's door. He pressed his thumb to the door pad and waited.

Dean listened to the announcer, then shook his head. He sat there, waited, and the announcement came again. Pushing up off the sofa, he walked to the door and hit the entry pad. The door slid open and one minute they were standing there with their gazes locked in battle, and the next, Sam was pushing past him and inside his place. "You know you're worse than a Talochian dog with a bone."

"Shut up," Sam said. He rubbed his eyes, "my place is a mess, there's stuff everywhere and blood on the floor. I couldn't sleep last night - which is ironic seeing as I was unconscious a short time ago. You make me feel safe. I'm going to sleep here." Sam turned and walked through the open doorway to Dean's bed, kicked off his shoes and climbed in. He left the covers pulled back and stared at Dean as he settled on the pillow.

You make me feel safe. Now if that wasn't the strangest thing to be told, and Dean's face probably showed his surprise. He crossed his arms as Sam made himself at home. "That's my side of the bed," he said, willing him to go to the other.

Blinking, Sam shook his head slightly and shifted to the other side of the bed. "Happy now?"

"Probably better I don't answer that." Dean looked at the clock, it was hours before he would ordinarily even try to sleep. Letting out a breath, he walked into the bedroom, touching the wall unit which dimmed the lights slowly so that he was inside the bed before the lights were out.

"I move around. A lot."

"You can sleep on the floor if you like," Sam smiled sweetly and tugged the blanket over him.

Dean gritted his teeth. "I probably snore." No one had told him that, but maybe it would give Sam a reason to leave. Yeah, who was he kidding.

"I sleep with voices in my head, snoring won't bother me." He huffed out a breath and rolled over.

"My alarm goes off early." He turned his head, wondering what 'cup half full' bullshit Sam would come up with for that one.

Sam sighed. "I have to be at the medical bay at 0600 hours." He pointed to his head without looking back at Dean, "head injury."

"Oh the head injury was there long before..." he muttered, rolling over onto his stomach, face looking toward Sam's head. "This'll be a first..."

Sam rolled back over the face Dean. "What's a first?"

"Me... slumber party. Sleeping with someone, but not sleeping with them." He chuckled. "This better not get out or I'm gonna make your life..."

"Dean? Shut up." Sam leaned forward quickly catching Dean's mouth with his, slanting his mouth and sliding his warm lips back and forth across Dean's. Pulling back, he blinked in the dim light.

"Mmm, such a tease." Dean licked his mouth and found himself wanting more. "Don't play with fire, Sammy. Even telepaths don't know everything." Forcing his eyes shut, he made himself think of everything except the fact that he had Sam in his bed.

Sam shifted closer and slipped his arm over Dean's waist, paused a few moments and nudged his leg in between Dean's.

"Sam. Not kidding," he said gruffly, "I am not planning to sleep with a raging hard-on. Unless you're ready to face the consequences, you better quit it." He didn't toss Sam's arm off him, it felt too... good, he didn't push his leg either, it felt... right. But his mouth was burning... aching for a kiss, and he was starting to want to touch Sam, under his clothes. Great.

Rolling his hips just slightly, Sam shifted closer, lips a hair's breadth away from Dean's.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." The heat crackling between them was undeniable, and Dean wasn't gonna fight it now. Sliding his hand up Sam's chest, to the side of his throat, he stroked all the way up to his jaw, pushing his face toward him in the process and slanting his mouth over Sam's. There was nothing soft or tentative about Dean's kiss this time. This time Sam was in his bed, and Dean was claiming his prize.

Deepening the kiss, tangling his tongue with Sam's, Dean rolled toward Sam, using his weight to push him back. His hand never stopped moving up and down his throat, shifting his face this way and that, placing him exactly where Dean wanted as he kissed him until they were both well on their way to running out of breath.

Every nerve in Sam's body was firing, He let Dean move him, shift his body, push him back into the bed, Oh God. Sam's lungs were aching for air but his mouth ached for Dean's more, he wouldn't pull away first. Lust flooded through his mind, his own, Dean's. Safe. His tongue slid around Dean's mouth, mapping every texture, every sensation. Spine arching up off the bed - Sam's body writhed under Dean - hips shifting slightly, hands slipping under material. It was the sweetest torment, bodies moving together, hands grasping - tangled in too many clothes, wrapped in sheets.

Lifting his head to take some air, Dean replaced his mouth with his thumb, dragging it across Sam's lips. He wanted to see, dammit. Rolling off for a second, he hit the switch and a dim light flooded the room. When he came back, his eyes were burning with an intense heat, focusing again on Sam's mouth. "I may have an obsession you'll want to give me some professional help with," he said, tracing Sam's lips again with his thumb, then dipping it inside, weaving it in and out, torturing himself with the need to have his tongue in the place of his finger.

Sam's fingers curled around Dean's wrist holding his hand, his tongue darted out, sliding slowly along the bottom of Dean's thumb, then he leaned forward and sucked it into his mouth. His tongue moved along the sharp edge of Dean's nail, then spiraled down, winding around the warm thumb - sucking it gently. He pulled back slowly, letting his lips fall open, "I'm," he licked his lips, tasting Dean, "good with obsessions." He flipped a long leg over Dean's, sliding it down, locking their hips tightly together.

When their bodies came into hard contact like that, Dean's control slipped just a little and he had to struggle to get it back, to fight the need to take Sam right there. But no, he'd been imagining a slow burn... and he damned well would have it. "Good, because I seem to have a lot of obsessions." Since meeting you, he thought, focusing on the column of Sam's throat, and the pulse beating strongly at its base.

Dipping his head down, Dean sucked Sam's pulse point, then licked his way up his throat and found his mouth again. As he crushed his mouth over Sam's, Dean caressed Sam's throat, his thumb moving back and forth across Sam's jaw line, memorizing his face. His other hand gripped Sam's hip, almost possessively as he subtly moved against him, generating waves of heat ... of need... of desire. God, he wanted this man, this man he should hate, should keep far away from, this man who represented all of his sorrow, his agony... a telepath, and yet ... yet Dean wanted him so badly, mere logic wouldn't stop him.

He moved his hand from Sam's hip to under his shirt, groaning at the burning heat of Sam's flesh against his calloused palm. So many sensations, the soft silky heat of Sam's mouth, the tight muscles quivering under his hand, the gentle, teasing thrusts against each other, and Sam's own heady scent filling Dean's nostrils, making him want more, stoking the fires burning within him. He was hungry, so hungry for this man, so fucking needy.

Shuddering, Sam's hips rolled up against Dean's, grinding hard, wanting, desperately needing more. He buried his head in Dean's neck, licking, biting, lips sliding wetly down his long neck and sucking on the man's collar bone. "Dean..." he murmured against the salty flesh. "No nightmares tonight," his voice caught in his throat, "let me take them."

"No nightmares," Dean echoed, kissed him one more time, then moved down Sam's body. With both hands, he pushed his tee shirt higher, kissing every inch of exposed skin, licking and sucking along the well defined lines of Sam's muscles. Hot, he was fucking hot. And sweet... not something Dean usually went for, but in Sam's case... he damn well couldn't resist and was tired of fighting.

Shoving the material all the way up to Sam's neck, Dean caressed with his hand, and with long strokes of his tongue, claiming every inch, tasting, loving the way Sam felt under him. Lifting his head, he studied Sam's face, his swollen lips, his lust blown pupils and groaned. Dipping his head down, he covered Sam's flat male nipple with his mouth, sucking hard as he thought of the passion he'd seen in Sam's eyes, trying to master the blinding need that was starting to ride him.

Sam moaned, deep, long, his head snapped back as his shoulders pushed his chest up into Dean's mouth - hand curling around the back of the other man's head. Rocking his hips back and forth Sam mumbled, "more," ... Dean's name rolled off his tongue. His hands moved down Dean's shoulders, over the hard muscles in his back - fingers digging in, yanking him roughly toward him. "God, always wanted you..." His mind flashed to Dean's memories, the dream. Letting his mind open completely - something he rarely did - Sam smiled as he head rolled back and forth against the pillow; he knew Dean would be able to feel it - the way his body felt, he was so hard, his balls full, aching. His movements were frantic, Dean was going too slow, too slow, "teasing..." he whispered, hands clamping down over Dean's ass.

"Savoring," Dean countered, his gut suddenly clenching as Sam's feelings slammed into him. Eyes wide, he tried to process, to consider the ramifications, to determine if it went both ways, but his efforts were futile. His body said 'yes' to this, 'yes' to feeling their combined lust, 'yes' to knowing the exact effect he was having on Sam, 'yes' to the firestorm raging through him.

"Take it off," he demanded, suddenly pulling at Sam's shirt, and tearing it off him the moment Sam raised up. He followed by taking his own shirt off, leaning in to let Sam kiss his throat as he moaned, then crawled down Sam's body. Skin to skin... it felt so good, so right.

Despite the desperation he felt from Sam, Dean didn't relent. Didn't move any faster, even if he was burning up just as badly as the telepath. He realized why Sam let him into what he was feeling. "Dirty trick, Sam," he said, nipping his side, then licking him better. His fingers curled around the waistband of Sam's sweats and he slowly inched it down, his mouth following, sweeping back and forth across Sam's lower belly, loving the knowledge of how hard Sam was for him... how much harder he was getting.

"Dean... " Sam's voice was barely a whisper, images flashed through his mind. Possession. His brow furrowed as the muscles in his stomach tightened then quivered under the soft, slick touch of Dean's lips. "No trick..." Sam couldn't control it anymore, the connection between them too strong. More than lust, more than physical. He cried out as the cool medallions around Dean's neck dragged over the fiery skin of his cock,

Sam's breath hitched in his chest, his mind slammed by the ache deep within Dean, their bond. He shook his head slowly, too much getting mixed up. Not caring, Sam tried to let the images, the feeling wash over him as he pushed his hips up off the bed, begging with his body. "Dean," he whispered.

"I gotcha, Sammy," Dean smiled up at him and grasping his hard cock, pumped his fist up and down. He gave just enough pressure to know he was taking the edge off Sam's desperation, but not moving too quickly. "Bet you taste good. I can't wait to taste," he said, biting his lower lip to maintain his own control.

The name slid into Sam's mind, worming its way through his memories, through Dean's, Sammy. His hips snapped forwards, blunt fingernails digging into the slick flesh on Dean's back. My Sammy - it ricocheted through his mind. Sam bit down hard on his bottom lip, breaking the skin - tasting the salty copper tang of his blood. His blood moved to the surface of his skin everywhere, the slightest touch of Dean's body lit small fires all over Sam's flesh. He groaned and tried to bury his face in the pillow. My Sammy, he blinked in the half light, fingers reaching again for Dean's soft, hair - the slightest curl at the back of his neck. "Your Sammy," the words slid past his lips before the meaning slithered into his brain.

"You will be," Dean promised, unsure what those feeling that were washing over him through Sam were, but concentrating on the lust, the desire, the heat. He ran his thumb up the underside of Sam's cock, then dipped his head and licked the drop of precum at his tip. "Was right... taste good," he said, sliding his tongue back and vibrating it along the slit at his tip, coaxing more cum.

Sensing the rise of Sam's need, and his own... his need to make Sam his, make him shout his name, Dean opened his mouth and took Sam's crown in it, rolling it around with his hand, and moving his tongue in the opposite direction. Teasing, tasting, then sucking, moving his head up and down, each time taking just a little more of Sam's cock, groaning as Sam bucked up against him, and showed him both physically and mentally how much he wanted... needed to be engulfed in the heat of his mouth.

Lust blew through Sam's body, his hands slid down his own body coming to rest over his hips - long fingers reaching out to graze over the stubble on Dean's cheeks. He slid his leg higher, over Dean's ass squeezing tight. As his cock sank further into the wet heat of Dean's mouth Sam cried out, a string of words left his mouth after he gasped in a breath. He was almost incoherent; there were so many thoughts, feelings, sensation rushing through his head. Hair plastered to the sweat on his cheeks he tried to push up, watching the dark skin of his hardened shaft slip deeper into Dean's mouth, past those kiss-swollen lips.

Dean didn't know when it happened. When he went from teasing and inflaming, from being in full control, to being consumed by a fiery hunger whose power he didn't quite understand. He licked, and sucked Sam, his cheeks hollowing out, no longer gentle, now simply possessive, like this man was his to do with as he wished... and what he wished for right now was for Sam to be crazy with need for one thing... for Dean.

Heat inched though Dean's veins, searing everything in its path. His cock was so fucking heavy, pulsing, aching between his legs. As he pleasured Sam, he started fucking against the mattress, rubbing his trapped cock against it, getting a little relief. Oh God...God he wanted Sam in so many ways, all at once, like they had no time, like it was now or never.

Sam heaved in a breath, Dean’s urgency knocking him back against the mattress. "Fuck..." It had never been like this, so intense. From his feverishly wide eyes to the bottoms of his feet - Sam's body was alive, thrumming with pleasure and lust. Every inch of him ached to be touched as he thrust up into Dean's slick mouth, urged on by the eel-like movements of his tongue.

Dean pulled his mouth off Sam's cock with a wet pop, got up onto his knees and pulled his shorts off. The look in Sam's eyes as he caught sight of his cock, how he couldn't mistake Dean's desire, sent new tendrils of lust shooting through Dean's system.

Jesus...Dean's body, the throbbing length of his cock, the flush creeping across his chest - it was so fucking hot. Sam moaned, body jackknifing up off the bed and slamming into Dean's full force. Licking his way across the broad expanse of Dean's chest, Sam sucked and nipped the sweat-salty flesh. The sheen of sweat on Dean's body glistened in the faint light, and Sam's cock twitched and throbbed against his body. As Dean knelt over him, Sam wrapped long arms around Dean's torso and brought his lips quickly to suck on a swollen nipple. He rolled the sensitive nub of flesh back and forth between his teeth, humming softly against the hot skin.

Holding onto Sam's broad shoulders, Dean threw his head back, moaning out his pleasure. He liked sex, no he loved sex... but this wasn't just sex, it was more than sex. He couldn't wrap his mind around how that was possible, so he stopped thinking, and just enjoyed it, enjoyed this.

The motions of Sam's hot mouth on his skin were doing things to Dean, tying him up in knots. He found himself thrusting against Sam's belly, trapping both their wet cocks between their bodies. "Oh God... so good, just like that... Sammy.... just like that," he pleaded as he caught fire one more time.

The moans that passed Dean's lips slid down Sam's body like ice, his skin pebbled into goose bumps, cock jumping against his belly. Sam moaned around the hard nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, swirling around it.

Need was slamming into him like waves, and when Dean could no longer control it, he swooped down, slanting his mouth over Sam's, plundering, kissing him furiously as he pushed him down with just the insistent press of his mouth. Once Sam was on his back, Dean was on top of him, gripping his hip, pulling him closer, sliding his hand under Sam's ass and raising him up to meet his every thrust. He took pleasure in the hard, masculine frame under him, the strength of Sam's body, his powerful thighs, his arms, and in some primitive part of his brain, he took pleasure in mastering him, fucking against him just right, like he was the only one who knew exactly what Sam needed.

Falling back on the bed slowly, Sam gave up everything - it was just the way it should be. Dean's hands held him down, hips snapped against Sam's pressing him down against the mattress. Sam's hands soaked up Dean's body, the hard lines, curves of hard-earned muscles, dimpled flesh of a wound scar. Long arms slid around Dean's waist, hands cupping the curves of his ass, Sam's fingers dug in as his body thrust against the other man's.

"Mine," Dean moved over Sam like a piston, getting them closer and closer to release. He kissed him hard, fiercely, lifted his head, "Mine... Sam... you hear me?" Dipping his head down, he sucked hard on the soft skin at Sam's throat, knowing he was going to leave a bruise, wanting it, wanting it so bad nothing else mattered.

"Yours," Sam murmured as his head fell to the side offering Dean the long expanse of his neck, "yours." His breath hitched in his chest, hands moving slowly up and down Dean's back, fingernails scratching at the flesh. Dean's mouth moved on his neck, sucking, drawing the blood up to the surface and Sam's blood ran hot because of it. He wanted to be marked, bruised, Dean's.

Hearing the words, the promise, powerful emotions raced through Dean. Things he couldn't understand, couldn't contemplate. Words like this would have him running, but he wasn't running, he was craving them, wanting them. The need to come was growing stronger, a terrible ache building inside Dean. He wanted to be inside Sam, knew how good it would be, but he'd take him like that next round. Right now, he liked holding him the way he was, liked the closeness. Sliding his hand between them, he brought their cocks together and started fucking harder, faster, grinding their groins together as he kissed Sam's throat one last time.

"Come with me," he whispered against Sam's ear, then brought his mouth down over Sam's, pushing his tongue inside, fucking his mouth the way he was imagining fucking Sam, being inside him, taking him full. His fingers dug into Sam's shoulder as his balls drew up tight against his body. Now... now Sam.

It was like Dean was inside Sam's head, in his body, all over him. Sam couldn't tell the difference anymore between words he heard and things he felt. Desire had built to such a fever pitch inside him; it just took the hint of a whisper from Dean and things started to come undone deep within him. Dean was in his mind, whispering in his head, and his orgasm spiraled out of control. Sam's hips bucked up uncontrollably, one hand grabbed hold of Dean's hair and he gasped for air and moaned into Dean's mouth as his cock jerked between them, throbbing and pulsing out hot splashes on their bellies, over Dean's hand. Sam's teeth closed down hard on Dean's bottom lip, his fingers digging into Dean's back as he trembled away the last of his desire.

As they writhed against each other, Dean came so hard that if his cock hadn't been trapped between them, he would have shot his load clear across the room. The warm sensation of Sam's cum spreading between them drew a groan out of Dean as another rope of cum shot out of him. He kept gently stroking their shafts, moving slowly against Sam, tasting his mouth, sucking his lower lip, until the last wave of tension eased. "That was... fuck," a muscle pulsed in his jaw. "I can't even say how good."

Sam laughed low and deep, rubbing his swollen lips across Dean's mouth and down his throat. "Jesus, Dean..." His arms tightened around Dean's body, pulling him down and he dragged his teeth down the sensitive flesh above Dean's collar bone. "We can ... uh ... do that again any time you want..." Sam grinned against Dean's flesh, fingers moving in small circles on the other man's back.

"We got all night," he answered, "mmm'ing" as Sam kept touching him. "It's not my bed time yet," he murmured, though strangely, he knew if he closed his eyes, he'd probably sleep. "Am I heavy?" He should roll off Sam but it felt too good, and he liked the way Sam was stroking his back.

Leaning back a little so he could see Dean's face, Sam smiled, "you are heavy, but I like it." It was good, he felt like he was being held down on the ground so he didn't fly away, Dean's thoughts - his emotions - were between Sam and everyone else. It was strangely peaceful. He also really liked the way Dean's body felt under his hands. His hands kept moving over the slick skin on Dean's back even as his eyes started to close. "S'good," he murmured, hair falling down over his eyes.

After a few minutes, when Sam was asleep, Dean slowly rolled off him. He used the sheets to quickly clean them off, then turned the light off and rolled close at the same time Sam turned onto his side. Spooning behind him, one arm around his waist, palm flat against his belly, Dean kissed the side of Sam's neck and closed his own eyes. He couldn't remember ever feeling this way, completely comfortable in his skin, undamaged. It probably wouldn't last, but he'd enjoy it while it did.

* * *

Fingers curled around the edge of the bassinet, Dean looked at his baby brother. "He's bald."

Mary smiled, "not so close. And you had less hair than him when you were born." She laughed seeing Dean touch his full head of hair, then he said "Uh uh," when he stretched to touch baby Sammy's.

"When can I play with him?" There was doubt in Dean's expression as he looked at the little lump under the baby blanket. He stuck his finger out, smiling brightly when Sam curled his tiny fingers around his own. "He knows I'm here. I think he's fake sleeping."

"Oh you do, do you?" Getting off the chair, Mary came to sit on the floor, near her sons. "We just got some news today. Sam's a telepath," she said, smiling, but looking just a little worried.

"A telath? What's that."

"It means he's special," she said. That was true, but there were many who hated telepaths on principle. Growing up as one was often difficult, and she knew it might be hard for her youngest. "It means he's yours to protect."

"Mine?" Dean frowned. "Okay, but he can't touch my guns, they're dangerous and he's just a baby."

Mary pulled him into her arms. "That's exactly right."

*

Sam mumbled something in his sleep and shifted, opening his eyes briefly in the dark. He felt Dean's warm breath on the back of his neck and closed his eyes again. Yours to protect. Sam slipped his hand down and grabbed Dean's hand, his brow furrowing slighting as sleep tried to reclaim him. Mine, Sammy is mine.. Faces whirled around him as he slipped under, Mom, Dean... Sammy is mine.

*

"Son, they're waiting for you," John Winchester said to Dean, nodding to the older children running into the surf and playing with the boards. It was a beach picnic event put on by Space Corps and the children of many of his friends were there. His son was good at sports but right now, he was playing in the sand with Sam which had the elder man frowning at him. "Mary and I are watching Sam."

Dean didn't look up. "I know. But he wants his sandcastle to be the biggest one, I'm just helping him. Right Sammy?"

"Wight."

Looking up, Dean grinned and tapped the little medallion on the chain around Sam's neck. "It's R... right."

"Wight," Sam nodded, pushing more sand toward Dean.

"Dean." Shaking his head, John went to speak with some of the others from his unit.

Later that night, Dean sat up as his door opened. Sammy was standing there in his jammies, eyes wide. "It's just a storm." Seeing his brother eyeing his bed, he just lifted the blankets. "I gotcha, Sammy," he smiled and covered both of them up to the neck.

Dean saw the door open, saw the scowl on his dad's face and wondered what was the matter. But the door closed before he could ask, and he rolled to the side and closed his own eyes, one hand on Sam's back, so he'd know he was still here, with him.

*  
Sam had just wanted to write a story like Dean was doing. He hadn't known that the paper he was making his letters on was an important one. "Dean.. I'm sowry." Dean's eyes were mad, the way they usually only got when Dean was talking loud with Dad.

Sam didn't like it. "I wanted to write toooo," he didn't mean to whine.

Dean screwed up the paper that Sam had made his letters on and threw it in the corner. "Now, I gotta start my homework all over again. Get outta here, Sam."

Sam's small fingers clenched the pencil tighter in his hand as tears welled up in his eyes. He was frozen to the spot, one socked-foot turned on its side.

"I said, get outta here, S..." Dean glanced up at Sam and his eyes softened. He put his pencil down and held out his hand, "C'mere, Sammy."

As he shook his head, Sam's tears fell over his cheeks.

"Aww, s'okay, Sammy, come on," Dean motioned for Sam to come back across the room.

Swiping the tears off his cheeks Sam shuffled forward and put his small, wet hand in Dean's.

"Sammy, it's okay, just 'cause I'm mad doesn't mean I don't love you." He tugged Sam closer and pulled him into a hug. "Okay, Sammy? You understand?"

Sam nodded against Dean's hair, fingers still curled around his pencil.

*

Dean was proud of himself. Sure he'd been late to class, but he'd gotten to walk Sam to class on his first day of kindergarten. Mom had gotten him to the gate, and then they'd gone the rest of the way. There were three other telepaths in the class of twenty kids, and everyone knew which ones they were. The tels had to go to some special classes so there was no way to keep it a secret.

Before he'd left Sam in the classroom, he'd asked him to read every kid in the class. A couple days later, any kid who'd had thoughts about hassling Sam knew better than to even try.

So every day, when mom asked Sam how his day was, and if the kids were nice, and Sam answered yes, Dean had a secret smile.

Now that Sam had been in school for a couple months, Dean helped him with his homework and other things.

Sam padded into the room rubbing his head with a balled up fist, "okay, I'm ready to try again Dean."

"M'kay." Dean turned his chair around to face Sam and looked into his brother's eyes. "What am I thinking?"

Screwing up his face, Sam concentrated really hard. "Nothing.... Dean... I can't d'oit ... you're stopping me too hard." Sam hated when Dean kept him away, it made him feel really lonely.

"Come on, you can do it. Find a way in. You showed me how to build the walls. Now tear 'em down, or get around them." He wasn't sure how it worked, but he was always amazed when Sam had the right answer. Because he was so good at it, could read everyone, they'd decided to make it a little harder for him, like an obstacle course. "You can touch me, if you want. That's not cheating," he offered, seeing Sam's frustration.

Sam stepped forward until he was standing on Dean's toes, wrinkled his nose and grinned up at Dean. "Okay." He thought really hard, thought his way around the things that were in the way - it was like playing a wrist band game. Sam's eyes fluttered closed as he concentrated harder, his small hand reaching out to touch Dean's cheek. "A dog!" He grinned again, "the...the dog we met - when we went to Coney Island!" Sam's hand dropped and his eyes sprang open. "I did good right?"

"Hmm," Dean shook his head sadly, then yelled, "Yes!" Pumping his fist into the air. "You got it. You got it, Sammy. You're gonna be the best telepath," he nodded. "Know what I'm thinking now? You should go get us some pie. Mom can't say no to you," he suggested, giving his brother a push.

Laughing Sam stumbled a little. "You can't say no to me either!" He ran down the hall yelling for his mom.

*

Sitting across from Sam at the dining room table as their mom filled their plates, Dean smirked.

Swinging his feet under the table Sam grinned and tapped his head with his finger, trying hard not to laugh.

Cocking his head to the side, Dean gave him a look, then, feeling his dad's eyes on him, quickly looked down at his plate, but he couldn't help the smile that kept tugging at his lips.

"Boys?" John's voice was gruff, he put his glass down on the table, "what's going on?"

Sam mimed zipping his lips shut like Dean had taught him and picked up his glass of milk with both hands trying not to spill.

"Nothing, dad." Dean gave him a completely innocent look, then lifting his fork, stabbed it into a potato and stuffed it into his mouth so he couldn't laugh.

Mary smiled, and put her hand over John's, willing him to keep the peace. "Just boys being boys," she said gently, trying to ease his mind.

Dean stole a glance at Sam, then tapped his fork on the plate, without making a sound. He'd learned about codes at the academy, and they'd come up with their own.

Sam nodded and looked down, fingers tapping on the table. He wrinkled his nose at Dean and kicked his brother's foot under the table.

John raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Mary.

She shook her head at him. "How was school," she asked Sam. "Alec's mom asked if you want to come for a play date on Saturday."

Before Sam could answer, Dean jumped into it. "Maybe Alec can come here. Sammy shouldn't go there." He knew Alec's parents didn't think much of telepaths, why were they inviting Sammy anyway? He looked at Sam, his eyes telling his brother to back him up.

Sam put his fork down on his plate, "Alec can come here but I don't wanna go there." He nodded firmly, eyes flitting over to Dean's.

"Alright honey. I'll talk to his mom, we'll do it here." She felt John's gaze on her but ignored it. If Dean was over protective, it was because of her, it was as simple as that.

She asked Dean how he was doing in his math class, then she and John engaged in their own conversation. Just as her husband was shoveling the last of his food onto his fork, she mentioned, "don't forget, we're invited to the Honeywell wedding on Sunday. No football," she said, giving him a look much the same way Dean had to his brother.

Sam picked up his bun from the table and took a small bite, he chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, smiled, looked over at Dean and then back at his Mom. "Dean's gonna marry me when I grow up." He took another bite of his bun.

Dean's head snapped up in surprise.

John's fork clattered to his plate, "that's it." He slid his chair back, "Mary - we need to talk about this. Now." He stood up and pushed his chair in slowly. "Enough is enough," he muttered.

Sam looked down at his plate, sliding his leg over so he could rest his foot against Dean's under the table.

"John. John..." She got up and followed him out of the room, turning to look at her beloved sons before leaving.

*

Dean ran into the kitchen. "Mom, where's Sam? He's not in his room."

Mary was startled. "You're early, don't you have study hall today?"

"Finished all my homework yesterday. Promised to take Sammy fishing. We made a fishing pole, where is he?" Dean asked, grabbing a cookie, then seeing the strange expression on his mom's face. She glanced at the window, but said nothing.

"Mom?"

Walking to the counter and putting his hands on it, so he could lift his body up, Dean looked out the window and saw Sam with dad, and some other men, on the dock where their boat was tied. "What..."

He didn't finish his question, just ran, out the door, across the way and down the wooden dock, toward them.. toward Sam.

Everyone was using pretty big words but Sam was trying hard to understand what was going on. Dean said he just had to pay attention and he would understand things, because he was smart. Sam wrinkled his nose and turned to face his Dad, concentrating really hard. The color drained from his face and he stepped back from the men slowly. "Dean..." he murmured. He darted to the side too late and his Dad managed to catch his small wrist.

"Now, Sam, you be a big boy. Make us proud. This is a big adventure for you, son." John tousled Sam's hair with his free hand.

Sam tried to tug his arm free, eyes darting up the dock to where Dean was just appearing around the side of the house. "Dean," Sam yelled, tugging so hard his feet slid out from under him and he was left dangling from his father's hand. "Dean!" His eyes were frantically watching for Dean to appear over the hill by the house. The men were climbing into the boat, and someone started the engine.

"Sammy!" Dean lengthened his strides, running as fast as he could. When he reached them, his dad was lifting Sam by one arm. "Stop that, dad you're hurting him," he shouted, grabbing Sam, arms wrapping tight around his brother as he tugged him. "Let him go, let him go. Sam... what..." His brother was slipping from his hands as another man started to pull Dean back. "No, he's mine. Stop... Sam!" he shouted, his fingers digging into his brother, tearing into his skin as he refuse to give him up.

Tears were streaming from Sam's eyes and he couldn't see right, couldn't see where to reach. "Dean... stop them... Dean." He was sobbing even though he knew Dean would call him a girl later. Kicking his feet as hard as he could did nothing, all that happened was his shoe flew off and clattered along the dock. They're taking me. "Yours Dean - you said... don't..." Sam's small voice was choked off by a sob, his fingers finally connecting with Dean's. He gripped tight to his brother's hand, "taking me, Dean, don't let them - yours..."

"Mine, Sammy," Dean confirmed, fighting harder, knowing he was losing, knowing all the martial arts classes he'd taken wouldn't help him. His finger caught on something just before Sam was pulled completely out of his grasp and was passed to others in the boat.

"Nooooo!" Dean shouted, scrambling against the hands that held him, trying to dive into the water. "You can't take him, he's mine... you can't... dad... can't.... Sammy! Sammy! Sam!!!!" He screamed for hours, was locked up for his own safety, and was never the same again.

* * *

Dean jerked awake. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he braced his elbows on his thighs and held his face in his hands. Same dream, they hadn't chased it away. Same sadness sweeping over him, but different. Different because he remembered the dream. Different because that sense of impending doom was dampened, not as painful, not as imminent.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean's heart raced as he tried to put the images he'd seen in some order. Mom and dad. The house that he could barely remember. It had gone silent after _that_ day, and then they'd moved. He was shaking slightly, trying to remember more. Needing to.

Sam's eyes snapped open. His heart was thundering in his chest, his own cries still echoing in his head. _His own cries_ Thoughts, names, images all started to slide together in Sam's mind. _Mine, Sammy_. He rolled over, forgetting where he was, confused, his mind in a million places at once and stopped short as he rolled straight into Dean. His arm slipped over Dean's waist and he could feel him shaking. "Dean?" Sam ducked his head down trying to see Dean's face, "you okay?"

Dean nodded, then answered slowly. "Yeah. I think so. I had another one." He swallowed, turned the lights on and looked over at Sam. "I remember. My dream... dreams... I remember them now." He was still trying to process them, one hand rubbing the medallions on his chest. 

Sam's hand drifted up sliding over Dean's neck. "I saw them, Dean... it was..." he couldn't even get his mouth to say what his brain already knew. All that kept running through his head was _mine, Sammy_. His hand slipped down and pressed against Dean's hand where it had come to rest on his own chest. Sam could still feel the chain yanking loose around his neck, the way the friction burn had itched for days. The smell of the fuel on the boat as Sam tried to heave oxygen into his lungs. The Tel uniforms. Dad standing on the dock, holding Dean's shoulders as he tried to wrestled his way to the water. Sam's heart lurched in his chest. "Dean...it was me."

Looking down at Sam's hand over his, Dean looked over. "Sorry... what did you say?" He was having trouble concentrating, when the scenes he'd dreamed about were playing over and over in his head. "What was?"

Tears were prickling at the edges of Sam's vision. "Dean... I'm _your_ Sammy." His fingers threaded through Dean's. "On the dock, it was me, I'm your Sammy," he voice broke and he cleared his throat, fingers tightening on Dean's. "I'm ... Sammy....the Sammy. It was _our_ dream that's why it all came together. They were... the Tel Uni..." Dean's face looked a million kinds of confused and Sam didn't even know if he was making sense. He was still stuck on the dock, screaming his heart out for his brother, his _brother_ , "oh God."

"My Sammy?" Dean scrutinized his face, trying to understand what Sam was telling him. The eyes... familiar... the hair, same color. Dean was about to hyperventilate, and he started to take shallow breaths, forcing calmness over himself. "My brother. You're my broth..."

Silence stretched between them. Dean wanted to tell him to go to hell. That it was impossible. That coincidences like this did not happen. But he was a realist. Now he knew from whom he'd learned how to block his mind... the one person against whom those blocks were ineffective. He nodded, "yes... you're Sammy."

He stood up and wiped his face. "I need a drink. You want one?" If Dean thought about it too hard right now, he was just going to have a coronary.

Sam fell back down on the bed. "I need a...I need..." his voice failed him. He _needed_ to get out of there. He sat up quickly throwing the cover back and searching through the sheets for his sweats. _Oh God_ \- that Dean had yanked off the night before. When he finally wrestled his way out of the bed, he pulled his pants on and began pacing around the room looking for his shirt. It was hanging off the back of the couch and Sam snatched it up and tugged it down over his head. He grabbed his shoes and sat down on the couch to jam them on his feet.

"Sam?" Dean followed him. "What are you doing?" He crossed over to the small wet bar near the door and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. "I really think we could both use this." He poured, his eyes remaining on the very distraught looking telepath. Seeing as he was a mess on the inside too, Dean couldn't throw any stones. Crossing the room, he held the drink out to Sam. 

Sam took the drink and stared down at it for a few moments. "I ... I should... " he looked down at the drink again and then back up at Dean, his eyes glassy and wide. "Dean..I have a ...thing..." he put the drink down on the table and pushed up, standing there for a moment. "I"m supposed to be... somewhere." He looked down at his feet as though willing them to move and lurched forward across Dean's quarters, "I'll ... yeah... we'll talk later." Running his hand down his face, he took a last look across at Dean and tapped the keypad by the door slipping out before it was even fully open.

Letting out his breath, Dean knocked back his drink, gave a loud "ahhh," then he started on the one he'd poured Sam. Figuring things out didn't always make them less complicated. His life had just gone from uncomplicated to complicated times ten. _My Sammy._ He glanced through the open doorway at his bed, and knew the way his stomach lurched, he was gonna be sick.

By the time Sam made it back to his quarters his heart was racing in his chest, the hair at the back of his neck damp with sweat, hands sore from the clenching of his fists. _Brothers_. The word kept circling around in his mind, weaving through the images that were so new and fresh. He swore under his breath and stood in the doorway for a few moments trying to understand what the _hell_ was going on. _Brothers...._

He had no way to process the fact that he was having extremely hot sex one moment then waking up in bed with his _brother_. There was just no context for that in his life for dealing with it. Like the other _orphans_ who came to the Tel academy so young, he'd made up his own history, figured he must have been part of a family at some point in time. Until the dream - Sam had only had the vaguest notion of people from when he was very young. It had always made him a little uncomfortable, unsettled. Now, he knew why.

He stripped off his shirt and sweats, everything smelled vaguely of sex and sweat and Dean; the worst possible combination of things considering the dream they had shared. Sighing, Sam fell face-down onto his bed. Sure, he could have showered Dean's scent away - but that was the real dilemma. There was something scary good burning in his chest from the touch of the other man and something scary bad like acid in his stomach. 

Throughout the morning, lying there in his bed, the dream continued to whirl around in his head. Dean's father ... _their_ father had sent Sam away, torn him away from the things... the person he loved most. Even now as the memories seeped back into his head, Sam knew that loss again - he could feel the ache from the echo of his younger self. Feel the slip of flesh as his fingers were torn from Dean's hand, the pull on his neck. He hadn't even thought to ask Dean about the medallions - if he actually remembered tearing the second one from Sam's neck. His fingers drifted up and brushed over the skin of his neck almost wish there were something there - a scar - something tangible.

Sam had left Dean's quarters so fast he didn't even know how Dean was feeling. When he finally felt like he could sleep, Sam blocked everyone, for the first time since he had left on the mission. He blocked them all for the full allotment of time he was allowed.

The next night, afraid that the dreams would be back, and that he might do something stupid, Dean barely slept. In the morning, he laced his coffee with a stimulant. Despite his personal problems, he needed to be alert and on the ball, in light of the situation they had going.

After a morning meeting where he was brought up to speed on the investigations into the missing person, as well as the deceased, he walked with a few other officers to the site where the body had been found. Scientific equipment and tents had been placed around the area, armed Space Corps personnel guarded over the scientists, and the perimeters of the compound were secured. The problem was that it was possible that the person or thing responsible for the murder of one person and likely a second, might be on the inner side of the perimeter. 

"Has every colonist been accounted for?" Dean asked again.

"Aye sir."

"Scans still show no other life forms, it's just us?" Yeah, they'd been over that too.

"Yes sir, just us and the plants and some forms of insect life."

There was nothing to connect the two victims, no victim 'profile' that was apparent as yet. Dean looked at the boring near the burial site, then feeling something, glanced over. In a distance, he saw Sam, talking to some of the scientists. Their glances briefly clashed, then Sam turned his back and Dean took a deep breath.

Seeing him look over, Corporal Smith explained. "There are indications of alpha waves from some of the plant life. Mr. Wesson is looking into it."

Dean jerked his chin up in acknowledgment . "Transmit everything known to date to headquarters, have them search for similar experiences or findings at other planets of the same class." They were on the outer rim, but the data could be reviewed starting from planets at the rim and working towards the center of earth colonized planets. 

Before leaving, Dean looked at Sam's rigid back. Talk about a clusterfuck. If they hadn't gone at it like jackrabbits in the sack, maybe there would have been one less complication. His jaw ached as he tried to reconcile the man, Sam Wesson, with the boy in his dreams. It hurt his heart, hurt fucking bad, and it was for more reasons than his simple mind could grasp or untangle. Maybe Sam had remembered more. Maybe there was something worse... something... something that made him run.

Scrubbing his face with his hand, Dean walked off, even more troubled than when he'd first awakened from his less than an hour of sleep. Clusterfuck did not begin to describe his day.

It was late in the evening. Dean had been restless, felt too confined, and walked outside for some fresh air. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to access any more memories of his childhood, at least dealing with his younger brother. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe he just needed to let it go. The past was the past, water under a bridge. 

A sound from behind had him tensing, hand moving to his weapon, then he let out a breath. "You're breaking curfew. You know you shouldn't be out here, especially unarmed."

Sam's eyes closed at the sound of the deep voice and a sad smile flitted across his face. "That .. could be applied to you as well Captain." He looked up ahead watching as Dean's hand slipped down from his weapon and hung heavily at his side.

"It's my curfew, I think _I_ can break it." Gathering himself, he turned slowly and searched Sam's face. "Did you need me?"

That was certainly a loaded question. Sam tried a slight smile and a shrug. "Nothing new to pass on really - just - the vaguest sensation of something here. I can't pinpoint it any further than the location of the body recovery." Dean looked tired, "I wanted to know how you are." 

"Fine." His answer came out clipped, it was his way. "You?"

Sam looked down at the dusty ground at his feet. "I'm all kinds of fucked up." He kicked at a small stone, sending it bouncing off into the darkness. "I've been blocking my full seven hours a day, working like a dog in between, scared to sleep and not so thrilled with being awake." He sniffed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You know, since you asked."

"This is where I'd usually insert my 'curiosity killed the telepath' joke," he answered. "Sorry. I... I'm sorry you're having a hard time. If I weren't neck deep in it, I'd probably have a solution for you." His jaw pulsed. "I'd give you leave if... I'll see if Tel Unit can get us someone quickly." 

Sam's eyes drifted out toward the darkness, staring aimlessly. "Like father like son." He swallowed, fighting back the tears that were chasing him all the time.

He felt like he'd been sucker punched. "You don't know either of us." There was a silence. "What do you want me to say? You think I expected this? Saw it coming? Not even close." Dean jammed his hands into his pockets and looked up at the sky. 

"Well, I got over being sent away the first time, I suppose... if that's what you want." Sam tapped his wrist band and flicked through his contacts and tapped it again. "I sent you Connor's information. She's the best of Tel Unit - if you put in a request make a note that I suggested her as my replacement. I've worked with her - you'll get along well. She's efficient, good at blocking." He turned to head back inside, "I .. " he licked his lips, "nevermind... if you need anything - let me know?" He waited, half of him wanting Dean to just grab him and pull him back, punch him... shove him aside. _Touch_ him.

"Goddammit!" Dean took a step toward him, and stopped, his eyes drilling a hole in the back of Sam's head. "It's not what this is. You said you're fucked up, well I'm trying to get you some time off, I didn't say on a permanent basis." He sliced his hand through the air, "fine... take it however you like." 

"You had everything, you know." Sam didn't turn around, his shoulders stiffened, hands clenched in the material of his pants. "I had nothing, I was sent away because... and I had nothing. You're right, I don't know you or your... _our_ father, or our mother. I had _nothing_."

Dean thought back on the years they'd worked on him, tried to make him think he was crazy, that he'd imagined his brother's existence. Remembered the loneliness, and then finally deciding to go to boarding school to get the hell away from the lies. "Yeah, Sammy. I had everything," he said, a lump in his throat. "Everything but what I wanted or needed, back then."

He took another step, and touched Sam's shoulder. "I can't change anything," he shook his head. "And I don't think this'll help but... I grew up. Then I beat the crap out of dad one time, and I barely talked to him. And mom... she was a ghost after you were taken. I hope you had it a little better than that," he said, licking his lips. 

Sam didn't turn around yet, couldn't... "I didn't know." He turned slowly. "Do you remember me now? I mean, do I look familiar?" Dean seemed familiar, Sam could see the faint echo of his _Dean_ but then his mind still swam with the images of his brother's tear stained angry face, and the sound of his own screams.

God, how sick would that be? If he did recognize Sam somehow and yet went after him at that bar, and again here? Dean ran a shaky hand though his hair, denial hot on the tip of his tongue. But this man deserved the truth. "Maybe. Maybe your eyes and..." he ran out of words as Sam turned to face him.

"Freckles," Sam offered, "I remember your freckles but I always thought maybe it was some kid I played with at some point ... somewhere." His finger twitched a little. He reached up and quickly swept his thumb across Dean's cheek - the dusting of freckles. He stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets quickly. "It's funny how our minds work...I mean, it was like you and I had to be together to have all the pieces of the puzzle."

His skin burned, where Sam touched him, and he knew it wasn't right. He nodded at Sam's observation. "Do you... do you remember anything else, other than what we saw?" He was scared as hell, and maybe wishing he hadn't asked.

"There's something you need to know." He hadn't wanted to tell Dean that it was John Winchester who had signed off on everything...but if they had no relationship - maybe it wouldn't even matter to him. "It was your... _our_ father who sent me away... he .. authorized your memory re-work." Sam stared into Dean's eyes.

A cold tendril of fear curled tight in Dean's stomach when Sam refused to answer his question about what else Sam remembered. "Yeah," he said thickly. "It had to be. He used to drive me in for the 'sessions'." He used to come out of the sessions with badly bruised temples, he remembered that. And his mom's sad face. He'd clung hard to the knowledge that he'd had a brother and they'd only been able to make that fade into a 'notion' or a feeling. They'd erased everything else, what he looked like, what their lives had been like, everything. The sessions would have continued if he hadn't finally managed to block them completely out of his mind as he grew older.

Two people on security detail walked over, their flashlights aimed at himself and Sam for a moment.

"Everything alright, Sir."

"Yeah, carry on." He watched them walk away. "Guess you'd better go in."

"Are you on duty?" Sam didn't _feel_ finished, "come and have a drink? A coffee?" He blinked his eyes, still aching from the flashlight beam.

Pressing his lips together and against his better judgment, Dean nodded and headed for the entrance, pressing his thumb on the entry pad and stepping inside. When Sam followed, he kept a good bit of distance between them. "My office."

"My quarters." Sam didn't leave him any room to disagree, just changed his direction and started walking. He was relieved when, after a relatively long pause he heard footsteps. They covered the distance quickly, Sam didn't want Dean to change his mind; leave him enough time to come up with an alternative. He pressed his thumb to the keypad and the door slid open; Sam moved into the room, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes. As he moved to the bar he was absurdly aware of Dean's presence behind him, the man radiated feelings to him now. Sam's hands continued to shake as he poured them both a drink. "Winsorian liquor. Got a gift from a friend - you even had it? Tastes like twenty year old scotch." He turned from the counter and held out a glass to Dean.

"No, I never have," he answered, his fingers closing around the glass and over Sam's for a moment, eyes meeting Sam's before he pulled the drink away. Unlike Dean's larger unit which had a separate bedroom, Sam's bed was ... right there, and making Dean extremely uncomfortable. He hadn't slept in his own bed since that night.

Now staring into the glass, he swirled the amber liquid in it around. "Do you need something from me? Apology..." he snorted at how inadequate that sounded. "Anything." Lifting his eyes, he never saw Sam so clearly. Hazel eyes that were so familiar, he gripped the edge of the table and suddenly sat down.

Sam joined him at the table, kicking the chair out with his foot and sitting down. "An apology?" The _sadness_ that rolled of Dean was almost unbearable. Sam clutched his drink just in case he was tempted to do anything else with his hands. He had a feeling Dean was just about ready to bolt. "An apology for what?"

He raised his arms as he shrugged, "Anything." Dean wet his lips, his heart slamming against his chest, hating the silence maybe even worse than anything Sam might say. "I don't know... but there had to be a fucking reason they took you from m... they separated us." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Must'a done _something_." That was about as much as he could get out, and leaving was sounding like a better idea every second that he stayed.

Putting his drink down on the table, Sam moved quickly and slid off his chair to kneel in front of Dean. "I don't know what you _think_ you did - but this isn't your fault. You didn't hurt me, Dean." Sam took a chance and slid his hand over Dean's thigh. Hell, the way he was sitting, Dean would have to kick him out of the way to leave. "I have... one memory... that I don't know if you have. I remember waking up from a nightmare and crying, sobbing my heart out. I was terrified." He looked at his hand, "and you were there, you came and got into bed with me and held me, and you made it all go away." He finally dared to look up at Dean's face. "I wasn't lying when I came to you the other night - _you_ whoever _you_ are to me, you make me feel safe." 

His gaze fell on Sam's hand around his own, he stiffened, just barely resisting the urge to pull away. He did listen though, carefully. He wanted to believe, wanted to so bad... but it didn't make sense. Why would the family have broken up like that? "That doesn't mean anything. An abused child doesn't want to leave his parents either. What if I... and if I didn't, then why the fucking hell did they... did _he_... put us through all this. Why?" 

Pulling his hand away then, he gave Sam a frustrated look when he realized exactly how deliberate Sam had been in trapping him into this spot. Dean started to drink, wishing the liquor could wash away the past... even the new memories.

Sam tried not to feel hurt by Dean rejection - they were both so _messed up_. "Why? Because your father was ashamed of us...of me... I... Dean you had the same dream, well, most of it - we were sharing that dream, exchanging images. I was the one who said it... it was me. If I had been old enough to understand things I wouldn't have." He blinked a few times scared to move away and give Dean a window of escape. "It's my fault...that's what it comes down to."

"What? You were six years old Sam, I was ten. What the hell did I do... what did I say... or think?!" His eyes widened as he realized Sam could easily have pulled stuff out of his head. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you _telling_ and _everything_ wrong if I... If I touched you or," he slammed his palm on the table. "Dammit... stop being so Goddamn understanding, stop looking at me like I'm overreacting or just fucking nuts." He ran his hand through his hair, then looked down at him. "Get up, Sam."

Sam flinched as Dean's hand slammed into the table. "No. You'll leave and... I'm not done." He shifted a little, uncomfortable but _hell_ if he was gonna give Dean a chance to get out of here now. "Jesus _Christ_ , Dean, what do you think I'm talking about? I blurted out... I said at ..." Sam took a deep breath, "I said at dinner that you were going to marry me when we grew up." Sam shuffled forward on his knees, slipping an arm around Dean's waist and feeling his brother stiffen under the touch. "You did not _ever_ touch me in any way I didn't want. I ... _loved_ you. Worshipped you - you never hurt me. _Never_." Sam looked up at Dean's face. "You want to go - you knock me out of the way because I'm not moving."

"Get up." When Sam didn't move, Dean gripped his arms and pulled them off him. He glanced at the door, but didn't make a move to knock him out of the way. "You... you think it's just hearing what... what he heard. That's it? He... ruined our lives over that?" He started to shake. "Then what about..." he swept his arm around. "What about you and I, Beta Centauri... here... _this thing between us_... you're saying that wasn't there?" His voice rose, because he knew the nice, innocent version of the story that Sam wanted to believe was implausible. 

"I'm a consenting adult. You know as well as I do - there's nothing even slightly _wrong_ with what you and I did under Interstellar law. There are species we've encountered..." Sam's voice faded away. "Are you ashamed of _me_? Is it because I'm a Tel?" He pushed up to his feet and stepped back. "That's what it is." He dug his fingernails in the palm of his hand. "Just like.. your Dad - maybe ... maybe that's what all this was about. Keep the precious son who's on the right path, the _Corps_ path - just like the old man. Get rid of the little kid who won't be separated from his older brother....holding him back, ruining his life." Sam blinked, surprised at his outburst. He stumbled back a few steps and sat down hard on his bed. "You can go if you want."

Dean flinched, like he'd been slapped. Maybe it was the memories of his mom telling him that Tels needed to be protected, that Sam would need protection from bigots. "I hate Tels," he nodded. "But you and I know the reason, and it has _nothing_ to do with shame. Nothing," he said thickly. "I knew _what_ you are, when I took you into my bed and I..." He got up. "Clearly I'm not explaining this well, and I don't know how to. I'm sorry." He looked down at Sam, forlorn, tears shining in his eyes, and all he wanted to do was pull him into his arms and kiss him better."

He walked to the door, forcing one foot in front of the other, before turning back. "What I'm feeling now... you feel it?" He didn't wait for confirmation. "I don' t know if it's about _back then_ or about now. If it's back then, hell yeah, there's something wrong... something majorly wrong that dad saw. If it's about now, probably still wrong, but not in the same way." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I remember dad bragging about you... a lot." He shrugged and hit the entry pad key, his insides torn up worse than when he'd gone out for some air.

"Then don't go." Sam was still sitting there, head down, hands fisted at his sides. "If that's what you feel... then don't go." He looked up at Dean's back.

Dean took three steps back into the room, standing over Sam. He reached out, stroked his hair, then moved his hand over the planes of Sam's face. "It didn't work out so well the last time you said that." Turning his hand over, he ran his knuckles along Sam's cheek. "I do see _him_ more and more, when I look at you. It's ... ah... confusing the hell out of me, you know? If I stayed here..." his gaze fell to the bed, and he knew damned well this night would be no different from the other one. "It would just get more complicated. I don't know if either of us could take anymore. I don't."

Sam nodded slowly, "okay, thanks... for being honest." He forced a slight smile and reached out to rest his hand on Dean's hip without even thinking. "I ... don't want things to be more ..." his voice broke a little and he coughed. "I .. thanks, Dean." His fingers curled unconsciously over Dean's belt. "Thanks," he whispered. Because really, at least this time they had a genuine conversation. Sam had a far better understanding of where things stood between them - even if it wasn't what he wanted. Even if he didn't _know_ what he wanted.

Dean bent over and as if it was the most natural thing in the world, kissed his forehead. "Goodnight Sammy." His voice broke, and he gave an embarrassed cough. "I know... don't call you Sammy." Swallowing, he gently removed Sam's hand from his belt.

Sam's fingers curled around Dean's hand, just for a few short moments, like it had probably done a million times before. At that moment he would give anything to get rid of the dull ache in his chest, the emptiness in the pit of his stomach. There were tears welling in his eyes when he looked up at Dean and smiled. "See you soon."

The pull was so strong, Dean almost gave in. Gave in to the temptation of just bringing his mouth down over Sam's and saying to hell with everything else, it could get sorted later. Knowing Sam probably sensed it too, he shook his head 'no.' "Maybe we should work on seeing if we're friends, and if we can ever be... brothers again. Call me if... you know. I'm just around the corner."

Pulling away, he left quickly, unable to take another moment of seeing Sam with tears in his eyes. A grown man crying was hard to take. A grown man, whose eyes he recognized and had wiped a hundred time, it was impossible.

It was starting to really be an issue that the station boundaries weren't any larger. At best, Sam seemed only to be able to manage to stay away from Dean about seventy-five per cent of the time. It wasn't nearly enough. Sam felt like some sort of malfunctioning satellite on a perpetually decaying orbit towards Dean. He managed to make it through a few mornings without seeing the Captain anywhere, but inevitably by afternoon or early evening they would bump in to each other. Sam's world became a little smaller as he tried to limit the places he went. He simply couldn't stand the look in Dean's eyes when they glanced at each other across the control room. Sam knew as soon as Dean came anywhere near him; knew his back stiffened when he felt Dean looking at him

The worst part was knowing what Dean felt. The situation they were in was eating Dean up from the inside out. He wanted Sam just about much as Sam wanted him. There was some undeniable connection between them. But Dean, he'd lived a life that was made up of rules, commands, structure - and nothing he felt for Sam - fit in with his vision of the way his life should be. Sometimes, Sam avoided by feeling for him. He would slip around a corner just as Dean's _need_ smacked into him. Sam would turn on his heel and head back the way he came when Dean's _desire_ washed across his skin like a cool wave. 

Of course, there was work. Sam made his reports as succinct as possible, trying desperately to avoid Dean's green, glassy stare. The odd time they ended up in the same dining lounge - their eyes would meet and something remarkably like regret would flit over Dean's face, then someone would laugh and call out to Sam and he would move to sit with them.

After a few days of absolute hell Sam decided he needed a drink. He went down to the bar a few hours before Dean's regular shift was over. He told the bartender to bring him the strongest thing he had - and leave the bottle or whatever other container it was in. He settled at a quiet table in the corner of the bar, near one of the info screens. At least it was a distraction. He'd been blocking for a few hours, glad of the relief, and in retrospect, that was probably how Dean ended up being at the bar without Sam having any idea at all. Swearing under his breath he emptied his drink, gasping at the burn in his throat.

Dean gave an internal groan. Of all places, he had to pick the watering hole Sam chose. Go figure. He hadn't really been avoiding Sam, and they'd had to discuss work now and again, but it looked like they had an unspoken agreement to conduct business as quickly as possible and move on. Right now, it really was for the best, thought Dean. Both their emotions were still too high, it was hard to think straight... logically. With a little passage of time, he was sure that would change, and maybe they could actually be friends... eventually brothers again. Maybe. If his fucking body would listen to his mind.

"I'll have another," he told the bar tender, knowing exactly where Sam was, without having to look at him. It was almost like he had a radar on the guy, uncanny. Once he got his drink, he started talking with a group of officers, pretty soon sliding into the usual habit of talking war stories and trying to one up each other.

An hour went by. The occasional glances that Dean stole at Sam told him that the Telepath, no, his brother, was drinking quite heavily. Unable to blame him, and knowing he was off duty and probably had the morning off, Dean had nothing to say to the issue. Since he had an early morning, he was sticking to beer. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around. "Hey, Drew," he got up and hugged the man lightly, thumping his back. "I see your ass is still flying."

"No thanks to the Falteras, they keep trying to kill me. I tell ya, I'm getting too old for this. You wanna," he nodded toward the door.

"Yeah." Dean slipped his card into his pocket and started follow him out.

Drew waited, and near the door, patted Dean's back again, then they walked out.

Sam's eyes had followed every moment, every look, the smiles and the touches and by the time Dean left the bar with the other man, Sam was done. He was _done_ with the entire situation. It wasn't the alcohol talking, it was everything else. Sam simply couldn't do it - couldn't watch Dean move on in a matter of days - like nothing had happened between them. Sam couldn't even look at anyone else, let alone go home with someone. He emptied his glass again and filled it up as soon as it was back on the table in front of him. There were times when you just had to give up on things, move on. "Fuck you, Captain Winchester," Sam whispered under his breath. _Fuck you_ for turning me into a jealous, pathetic, drunk, idiot.

About forty five minutes later, Dean walked back into the bar and on his way to sit with the officers, he noticed the bar tender arguing with Sam. Making a face, he changed directions. It was either that, or he was sure security would eventually be called. Moving behind Sam he put a hand on his shoulder. "Alright, it's time to go." He looked at the bar tender, "Is he paid up? Good." Grabbing Sam's card, he looked at him, hand still on his shoulder. "You ready?"

"No, I'm not fucking _ready_ and what the _hell_ business is it of yours? I'm not drunk enough yet." Sam shook off Dean's hand and snatched his card back. 

"One more. I'll get him to his place," Dean told the bartender. "Put it on mine."

The bar tender poured a short whisky, put it in front of Sam and walked away. 

"You having a hard time tonight?" Dean asked quietly. 

Sam picked up the drink and held it up in Dean's direction. "I'm not having a hard time _tonight_ \- it's an ongoing thing. But don't worry about it - I'll work it out. Here's to _brothers_." He raised the drink to his mouth and downed it, dropping it back to the table and gasping. He didn't want Dean there, didn't want him _anywhere_ near him - it was just making everything that already hurt ... hurt _more_.

"I hear you. This isn't gonna make it better, at some point, it makes it worse. You know that," he spoke softly, tried to keep the 'command' out of his voice. He looked around. "Drinking alone ..." he shook his head. "Let's get outta here."

"I wasn't alone, I was watching ... things...and _some_ of us would rather be alone if we can't... oh fuck it - why do I bother?" Sam pushed up from the table, swaying slightly. He waved good-bye to the bartender and winked at him then stumbled towards the door.

Sighing, Dean followed, grabbing him by both arms before he fell, then putting an arm around him to help steady him as he kicked the door open. Once they were through, he slowed down. "If we can't what?" he asked, his expression serious, though he didn't know whether Sam would answer in his current condition.

Sam wriggled clumsily out from under Dean's arm, stumbled a few steps and held his hand up to Dean to let him know he didn't need his help. "Some of us would rather be alone," he repeated "if we can't be with the person we _want_ to be with." He trudged forward, brushing the hair off his face ... frustrated.

In shock, Dean stood there and watched him walk ... stumble from side to side, only coming to his senses when he though Sam might fall, or would never find his way to his own unit. In a few long steps, he caught up and grabbed Sam again. "I'm assuming you're talking about me. You don't even know me. Let me see... I've been called a heartless bastard, Mr. Hell Freezes Under His Feet, emotional fuck-up, emotionally stilted, and those are just the 'nice' comments. So any ideas you have rolling around in that head of yours about this... nice guy... or someone like the kid I was, let me tell you now... he does not exist. So don't be alone on my account, I promise you it's not worth it."

He resisted Sam's efforts to get away, pulling him along as they turned a corner.

"Get off me, you selfish..." Sam's words jammed up in his throat, "who said anything about being alone on _your_ account? I saw you leaving with that .. guy. I know you don't give a _shit_ about me that way - I'm drunk not stupid and... and... _and_ I'm not waiting around for you." He struggled against Dean's grip, "and you are heartless ... and all those other things." Sam rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times trying to see more clearly. The ground seemed to be a little tilted. He shook his head from side to side, stumbled a couple of steps and tugged against Dean's grip. "Stubborn," he muttered under his breath when he couldn't get Dean's hand off his arm.

"What... what way... what the hell are you talking about?" He pushed Sam up against the wall, propping him up so he could see his face and try to understand. "You're what? Jealous... of Drew," he started to laugh. "First off, if you'd used your... you know... then you'd know he doesn't swing both ways. Second... I don't know, I seem to have lost my train of thought. Wait... why am I heartless?"

"Why?" Sam almost yelled the word, "you can't even.. you don't want...y..y..you just used me. I'm not jealous of anyone, especially not anyone who gets to be with you." Sam's words weren't even making sense in his own mind anymore. Sam grabbed a fistful of Dean's jacket, "I just _want_ to go home, and I don't know which way I live." He slumped back against the wall, held up mainly by Dean's grip.

Dean's eyes moved back and forth as he processed the broken sentences. Did he really feel used, or was it the liquor? "Alright, Sammy," he pulled him close. "I'll get you home. Come on, don't be mad. Don't be mad at me. It'll be better tomorrow," he said, speaking as they walked, one arm holding Sam tightly around the waist. 

Every time they bumped together, he remembered how good it had been between them. How sweet Sam tasted, how responsive he was to his touch. And the telepathic feedback, that had been amazing. And now he was fucking talking himself into a state of arousal, how brilliant was that?

They reached Sam's door, and Dean raised Sam's hand to it. The door slid open and he got him inside. 

"Thank you, I live here." Sam looked around and then nodded firmly as though confirming he had found the right place. He turned in Dean's grip and leaned in quickly to capture Dean's mouth in a kiss, his lips moved, wet and clumsy on Dean's and he pulled back after a few moments. "Dean, Dean, Dean...just because I'm mad at you .. doesn't mean I don't lo.." he hiccuped and smiled.

His mouth burned. Dean touched it, tasted liquor and his brother on his lips, now familiar words reverberating in his mind as he started pushing Sam back toward the bed. "You're killing me here, Sam. Gonna get you out of your clothes, okay?" He started to reach for the buttons of Sam's shirt.

Grinning, Sam reached up and started fumbling with the buttons on Dean's shirt, "fair's fair, Dean!" He leaned in and nuzzled down into Dean's neck. "I can be better than him," his lips moved against the warm skin of Dean's neck and Sam inhaled the scent of the other man. It was good, warm, safe.

"There is no _him_ , dammit Sam, stop." Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath as heat swept through his body at the first touch of those moist lips against the sensitive flesh of his throat. It had been building up for day, this need. And he'd done a good job of fighting it, beating it down, but now Sam was fanning the flames. "Please stop," he whispered weakly, trying to unbutton faster. "Tomorrow always comes," he said more to himself than to Sam.

 _Damn_ the buttons were small, Sam gave up and slipped his fingers under the hem of Dean's shirt pushing it up so he could slide his rough palms over Dean's skin. Sam's lips latched on to Dean's neck and sucked greedily, his fingers moving gently on Dean's sides.

A groan escaped Dean, his hands stilled as he swayed closer, for a moment resting fully against Sam. His cock twitched, started to thicken. His mouth slipped across Sam's cheek bone. "God help me," he muttered, pushing Sam down onto the bed, and letting a breath out. He tore Sam's shirt off. "Help me with your pants." If he didn't get him in that bed in about three minutes, he was going to join him. "Come on... fuck." 

When Sam was no use, he shoved him the rest of the way back, got on the bed on one knee, and worked the button on his pants. "You sure they didn't teach you the fine art of torture, out there in Tel Academy?"

Sam felt his cheeks flushing, _God_ why wouldn't Dean just get in bed? Reaching up Sam grabbed two fist fulls of Dean's jacket and tugged him down, lips colliding in a bruising kiss. Sam moaned softly, tasting the coppery tang of blood and slid his tongue out to brush along Dean's bottom lip. _Christ_ he loved the feel of the man's lips.

The instant Sam's tongue was at his mouth, Dean opened for him. Their tongues collided, brushed against each other, and then he was pushing inside's Sam's mouth. God, he tasted so fucking good... liquor and innocence, even though that should scare Dean... cause why the hell should he be thinking of innocence when he knew Sam was experienced? Groaning, he kissed him again, but undid Sam's zipper, keeping as much of his head as possible. 

He broke the kiss, his gaze on Sam's lips... wanting... needing, burning for him. "You have to go to sleep now, Sam. You'll thank me in the morning. We both will," he said, his jaw aching as he pulled away and tugged Sam's pants off in one go. Walking around the bed, he practically dragged Sam's body up, so his head was on the pillow, and avoided his arms. "If it's any consolation... I'm gonna have a hard time sleeping now." He stalked to the door and brought the lights down to a minimum.

"Mmm night, Dean," Sam's voice was soft, he was tired and that bartender shouldn't have let him drink so much. He started to fall asleep wondering when Dean would come back to bed. "Be.. right here..." he murmured rolling to the side.

The door hissed open, then shut behind Dean. His cock was so Goddamned hard, it was a damned miracle he wasn't fucking limping to his unit.


	7. Chapter 7

At 8:30 a.m. sharp, a detail of six men buzzed and waited at Sam Wesson's door.

Groaning Sam rolled toward the sound and tried to get his eyes to open, then someone dropped a very large brick on his head. Well, that's what it felt like. He groaned louder when the door panel buzzed again and slid out of his bed and stumbled over to the door slamming his hand against the touch pad swearing softly. When the door slid open all he could see were Corps men. He blinked a few times, "why are you guys making so much noise?"

One of the men stepped forward and cleared his throat. "We are to escort you to Captain Winchester's office for... Please sir, if you would hurry? He said that he shoe horned you in."

Sam scratched his head and squinted in the bright light of the hallway, "escort me to his office for what? It's the crack of dawn and I'm hungover! what's wrong with everyone?" Sam huffed and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "Tell, D...Captain Winchester I'm busy."

"No can do, Sir. Five minutes." The man looked at his watch.

"Five minutes or what? You going to carry me there." Sam stepped back into his quarters, "Gentleman, please - this is ridiculous."

"Yes Sir. Four minutes and thirty seconds." The door closed, and he let out a quiet sigh. Sometimes the Captain was a difficult man to serve under.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Sam snatched his jeans up off the floor and tugged them on then shoved his feet into his shoes. As he walked towards the door he grabbed a sweater and pulled it on. "Let's get this over with," he muttered and let himself be ushered out the door and down the hallway. When they arrived at Dean's office one of of Sam's new friends tapped the thumb pad and the door slid open.

Sam stepped inside quickly waiting until the door slid shut behind him before he swore under his breath. "This better be good."

"Good morning," Dean said cheerfully, pushing a cup of coffee toward Sam. He touched his communications device. "Hold all nonessential interruptions for an hour."

Sitting back, he searched Sam's face. "Now you're glad I didn't let you drink more, right?" Before Sam answered, he reached into his drawer and brought out some headache medicine. Silently, he poured a glass of water from a pitcher. "In my experience, these work very well."

"Dean, sleep works just fine too - what do you want?" Sam was furious, not only had he been marched from his quarters like a criminal, he'd done it with his hair standing on end and his face covered in creases made by his sheets. He sighed, "you got about twenty seconds to come up with a good reason for me being here or I'm gonna punch you." He folded his arms.

"Violence isn't the answer," Dean said, shaking his head. "Do you play poker? Chess?" Seeing the look on Sam's face, he continued. "Last night, you more or less said you want some of my time. So little brother, we're having a one hour play date, don't waste it."

Sam's mouth fell open then snapped shut to prevent the string of swearwords that was building inside him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam barked out a short laugh then winced and rubbed his temple. "I don't play poker or chess, I'm going back to bed." He turned and started towards the door.

Sitting back, Dean calmly picked up his coffee and watched Sam reach the door. Before his hand hit the entry pad, Dean hit a button on his desk, and gave a satisfied smile when the door wouldn't open. "Laser tennis?"

Sam covered his eyes with one large hand and let his head fall forward. "I knew you hated me." He leaned his forehead against the door for a few minutes then turned back to face Dean. "Don't be a jerk, you got your laugh, Dean, let me out. I swear to God - I'll come over there and kick your ass." Sam was really losing his temper. This was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever been subjected to in his life.

"I'm not laughing. Okay, I was laughing, but I'm not now. I mean it. You want to spend time, I'm right here. Its the only time slot until tomorrow. You wanna take? If not..." he pushed the button again. "Don't tell me I didn't try."

Sam took a deep breath and stared at Dean's face until his eyes were stinging. Finally, he left his head fall back and groaned then trudged forward to sit in the chair opposite Dean's. "There better be cream and sugar in that coffee." He slid down in the chair stretching out his legs and getting comfortable, "and I'm not playing anything. My time - I can just sit here and stare at you."

"Stop being provocative." Dean gave him a look.

Sam stared at Dean, "provocative? What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're going to sit there and stare at me, and you're not trying to provoke me?" he countered. "Have your coffee, it might put you into a better mood. Okay, so we're not playing cards or computer games. No time for basketball, if you play. How about five questions? Ask me anything... oh crap... you know everything." He let out a sigh and furrowed his brows as he thought.

Sam's eyes widened, then narrowed and he smiled. "Alright, five questions." He grabbed the coffee and leaned back in his chair. "Question number one, do you want to have sex with me?" He slurped some coffee and smiled warmly at Dean.

Dean's eyes widened. "I was thinking history questions." He wrapped his hand around his coffee, stared straight at Sam and answered. "No."

"No?" Sam couldn't help it, he looked a little surprised, then, he was pretty sure he looked a little hurt because that's how he felt. He shrugged, and took another sip of coffee to hide it.

"No," Dean confirmed. "I told you I think it would get things even more complicated, so no, I don't want us to have sex again."

"What do you want from me?" Sam peered at Dean over his mug, peering through the steam.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Looked away, then back at Sam. "I don't know." Seeing that Sam wasn't going to accept that, he added. "There's... some sort of connection between us. When you come up behind me, I know it's you, and I don't have any of this... psychic crap going on in my head, no offense." He swallowed, "I think I'd know if you were in a room full of people. I think, if you left here... if one of us did, without... without at least forming some sort of relationship, that it would haunt me... same as ..." he gestured with his hand again, "like what happened at the dock."

Releasing his breath, he hoped that each of Sam's questions didn't pack the same punch

Sam took a sip of coffee and thought over a few ideas. "What if I ... don't want a relationship with you?" His hand shook a little as he asked that so he settled the coffee cup on his thigh.

That shook Dean. His nostrils flared slightly. "Doors open," he shrugged. "As an exit or an entrance, I don't want to ruin your life." He grabbed his coffee, and took a sip.

"Can I have my medallion back?" Sam leaned forward, eyes focused on the chain around Dean's neck.

Dean hand went over the medallions, lingered over them. "No," he said thickly, almost choking. "Not yet. I'll give it to you some day." He looked down. "You can have anything else you want. Pictures. There's some family jewelry. Whatever you want." He looked back at Sam.

Sam looked down at his fingers as he fidgeted with the mug. "There's nothing else I want." He only wanted his medallion because it would mean they were brothers again, important, connected. Every moment Dean held on to it meant that .. he didn't feel that way. Sam leaned forward and put his coffee mug down on the desk very carefully.

"Do you have anything you want to ask me?" He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs, head down.

Dean sniffed. "Yeah. Do you think I used you?" He hadn't been able to forget the drunken accusation. It rang in his head over and over, all night long.

Sam didn't look up, he felt guilty enough for having said it in the first place. "No, I'm sorry I wanted you to hurt like I hurt." Christ he was sorry about so many things - but this one really hurt. Why had he even said it?

Wiping a hand over his face, Dean nodded. "About being jealous... was that the liquor talking?" Even if they hadn't been brothers, Dean hadn't made any promises. He knew Sam wasn't opposed to one night stands, but there was something about the way he'd talked to him last night.

Sam took a deep breath and looked up, eyes locked with Dean's. "No, I was jealous. Watching you walk out the door with that guy tore something out of my gut. I know you don't owe me anything and I don't know why I feel that way." He pushed his hair back off his face and looked back down, suddenly not enjoying the game so much.

Dean rubbed two knuckles back and forth across his lips. "I was a little jealous when you went off with Kevin." He looked at the time. "Maybe we should work our way up to one hour." Half an hour had passed.

"You kicking me out?" Sam stood up slowly and tugged on his sweater straightening it.

He gave a pained laugh. "No, I'm not kicking you out. I just... I ran outta questions. I'm kinda afraid of yours now. I thought you'd start with something easy."

"Was gonna finish with something easy, you know," He looked up and smiled shyly, "give you something good to remember." Blinking a few times he walked towards the door. "When's my next play date?"

That look on Sam's face, right there... it etched itself into his heart. Dean had a little trouble talking. He pulled his appointment book out. "Basketball court, tomorrow. Three?" He looked up. The only other block of time he had was in the late evening, something he was trying to avoid.

Sam nodded, "Okay, see you there." He touched the key pad and walked out, knowing he was going straight back to bed and that he was smiling.

* * *

Having to open his mind to the crew and team members in the base, with a hangover felt rather a lot like running a grater over his eyes...only worse. As the thoughts and feelings flooded back into Sam's mind he moaned and reached for the pain medication on his table making a mental note to have a long talk with the bartender about how much sooner he should cut Sam off next time he was drinking.

Dean remained as much of a mystery to Sam that morning as he had been when they met. Sam knew, somehow, that Dean had done nothing to him when they were kids, nothing that the man should be punishing himself for. He also knew that Dean was the kind of guy who would willingly carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, somehow convinced he didn't deserve any comfort ... or a little bit of freedom from guilt. It really pissed Sam off.

There was a lot of day ahead of Sam when he finally managed to shower and get dressed. He'd already been sent a notice that there was some interesting seismic activity that merited his consultation. That's where he headed first - intrigued as to what could connect his Tel abilities to seismic readings.

It didn't take him long to find out. In fact, when Sam reached the science lab it was a buzz of voices, suggestions and his mind was suddenly swamped with a fear-tinged excitement. The seismic activity was anything but normal. It was pulsing. Sam's background in science was far more limited than that of his colleagues - but still - he knew that planets didn't pulse He asked to be left alone for a while - moved closer to the large plate glass window and focused. Just like each night people had disappeared - there was a subtle presence, like a lingering telepathic scent, or trail. It was nothing that Sam could pinpoint but, it didn't feel right. There was nothing he could do. He'd never had a more frustrating post - in more ways than one.

Realizing there was nothing more he could do, Sam left the scientists huddled together over a work bench and three monitors and decided to do his rounds early. He looked forward to walking through the station, feeling for the crew, reading the variety of emotions from the scientific staff. He moved slowly through the base, stopping occasionally, smiling sometimes. As he eventually passed Dean's office door, he let his fingers trail across the silver door - felt Dean studying, concentrating and in the vaguest way thinking of Sam. He smiled and moved on.

By the time Sam made his way back to his quarters late in the day - he was exhausted and fell into a dreamless sleep. If he was going to play basketball tomorrow afternoon he would need sleep. He didn't even know the rules. He was still grinning as he fell asleep.

* * *

By the time three o'clock rolled around, Dean needed a break. The data being collected by the scientists was baffling. He was getting heat from Space Corps to find the murderer so that phase two of colonization plans could begin. Then there were the dreams. He'd kept his sleeping to a minimum, but was finding that the dreams were less and less oppressive even though they always ended with his younger brother torn from his arms... and now he could remember the dreams.

In the middle of the basketball court, he was answering the taunts of some of the teenagers complaining about being displaced by an 'old guy,' and shooting the ball to prove them wrong, when he felt the pull, and turned. "You're late," he grinned, his gaze traveling up and down Sam's body. "Had the hoops raised for you."

Sam smiled, "you really didn't have to do that." He scratched his head and watched as the teenagers wandered away mumbling. "Dean, I don't have a clue how to play basketball. We never..." There were a lot of things that Sam didn't ever do at the Tel Academy - he wasn't sure now was the time to start listing. Come to think of it - there were things he did do he was pretty sure no one else.... he coughed. "Okay - so ... brother," the word was strange and familiar at the same time, "teach me."

"You don't..." Dean licked his lips and made a face, trying to hold in his outrage that Sam had let a classic game like basketball pass him by. His gaze quickly darted back to Sam's eyes when he realized he'd been called 'brother.' "Alright then... we'll just shoot hoops for now. Maybe you can come by and watch a game some time, learn the rules. This part's not complicated."

Taking a couple steps back, he bounced the ball, aimed, and shot it through the hoop. He went after the ball, threw it to Sam and waited for him to give it a try.

Sam caught the ball easily in his large hands, of course it helped that he could sense precisely when Dean was going to throw it. He ran his fingers over the burnt orange ball, feeling the strangely pebbled surface. He bounced it a few times and when it didn't get away from him looked up at Dean, "why is it this color?" He tried throwing the ball and it bounced wildly off the rim and shot back at Sam almost hitting him in the head. He jogged after it blushing and grinned.

"You and your hard questions." Dean was easy on him at first, then standing behind him showed him how to hold the ball and aim. Standing that close, he could feel the heat rising off Sam's body seeping through his own clothes and tried not to allow his reactions to be too obvious. Yeah right... Telepath! Moving away as quickly as he could, he nodded approvingly as Sam got it. Dean stayed under the backboard, throwing the ball back, over and over until Sam got comfortable and was making a good number of his shots.

"Right... so now comes the fun part," Dean said, stripping his top off and tossing it onto a bench. "Now I try to block your shots, and you try to block mine. Shouldn't be hard for you, Stretch Armstrong." Yeah, he knew Sam probably wasn't into classic t.v. and commercials and wouldn't get it, but who cared. Grinning, he started dribbling in a circle around Sam, then took his shot. "Score."

It was his turn guard, and he gave Sam only a slight break, and then played for real, stealing the ball from him.

Sam's hair was plastered to his face already and they were only just beginning to play for real. Grinning he started to dribble the ball, feinted and managed to whip past Dean but didn't get the shot off in time. Dean spun quickly and jumped up slapping the ball down. Laughing Sam readied himself to defend again. At the last moment, just before he sensed Dean was ready to move Sam whipped his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the side, then crouched down slightly. He felt his plan work as Dean's concentration faltered. Sam reached across the front of Dean's chest and snatched the ball up in one hand, one of the distinct advantages of having big hands. He spun, jumped and finally managed to get a shot in.

The only reason Dean didn't yell "cheater" is that he wasn't sure Sam had done it on purpose. All he knew was that while he was ordinarily focused on a game and hardly anything could make him lose his concentration, suddenly being faced with the sight of Sam's bare chest, gleaming with the sheen of sweat, had done it... made his mouth go suddenly dry and his brain freeze, long enough for Sam to score.

He put his hand out for the ball, looking a little grumpy. Just like that, Sam had leveled the playing field because now, all he could think about was how bumping into Sam felt, right before he got the ball. Taking a deep breath and avoiding Sam's gaze, he started to dribble, zig zagging toward the basket, turning around and going another way when Sam was practically on top of him. He found an opening and jumped up to shoot at exactly the same moment Sam jumped to block him. For a few seconds, they were almost mouth to mouth.

When Dean's feet hit the ground, he had no idea whether the ball went into the net, he was just fighting ... fighting to pull away, to go get the ball... to not do anything stupid, like plaster himself against Sam and just say fuck it... fuck the game.

"Nice shot," Sam was panting. He obviously wasn't doing enough cardio. Sam reached out and patted Dean on the chest, right on the sweat-slick bulge of his pec. He blinked, fingers moving ever-so-slightly before he pulled away and dribbled the ball to the back of the court. He knew that his face was flushed, and that it wasn't entirely from the exertion of the game. Swearing softly under his breath, he pushed his damp hair back off his face and dribbled the ball back and forth for a few moments. He really had to learn to control himself better around Dean. It was obvious that things were difficult and even though Dean felt ... something ... for Sam he wasn't willing to pursue it. That was great, it left Sam half naked, sweaty and standing in the middle of a basketball court with a half hard cock and so much tension in his body he was pretty sure he was going to die.

Spinning, Sam dribbled towards the net, turning his back to Dean as he tried to move closer to the net. His back bumped against Dean's chest once, twice, then he spun quickly and tried a shot.

Dean's arms were open wide. He hadn't predicted Sam would turn yet, and was leaning in when he found his face pressed against Sam's chest, mouth sliding clear down to Sam's belly button as Sam jumped high, and then dragging back up the length of his torso to his throat as Sam reached the ground again. Electric heat jolted through him. He staggered back, licking his lips, tasting Sam, wanting him ... wanting to pull his body close, to feel whether he was hard too.

It was sheer fucking madness. Dean wasn't the kind to get obsessed about anyone, and yet... He met Sam's eyes. "Game over," he croaked, clearing his throat.

"Did I win?" Sam's eyes moved over Dean's chest, knowing that the opportunity wouldn't last long. "I think I won...a little." He smiled and swiped at the hair on his forehead.

"Maybe... a little," he answered grudgingly, "you did good." Putting a little more distance between them, he went to the edge of the court and grabbed his shirt off the ground, using it to wipe his face and chest. When he turned back and Sam's eyes were on him, he refused to look down to see if there were any tell tale signs of how that last contact between their bodies had really gotten to him. "Shower," he pointed with his thumb, then started heading that way.

Sam licked his lips. Going into the shower with Dean was about the most idiotic thing that Sam had ever considered. He stood there a few feet behind Dean, watching the sweat trickle down his brother's back and fighting the urge to follow the wet path with his finger. He shook his head. Yeah, really bad idea to go with Dean to the showers. He picked up his bag and followed his brother, eyes burning into the other man's back.

Dean wanted to ask if Sam was looking at his ass, but under the circumstance, it might not be funny. Hell... it wasn't funny, but now Dean could almost feel Sam's gaze, and he knew he might be imagining it, but that didn't stop all sorts of other thoughts from running through his mind and affecting his body. Cold water would take care of that, he decided.

They walked through the locker room, and Dean pulled one open. "If you don't have extra clothes, I have some in here, you can borrow." Yeah, there was a slight awkwardness, then Dean just stripped his shorts off and hanged them on the door of the locker, and walked away... fast. Going around the backside of the lockers, he grabbed a large towel by the door to the showers, and took it in with him, hanging it up so he could use it when he was done.

Picking a shower on one side, he was pretty sure under the universal unspoken code of men, Sam would choose one on the opposite wall, at the farthest point from this one. Turning the water on, he walked right under the spray, cursing out loud when the cold water hit him. He adjusted it, and felt his stomach tighten when he sensed Sam's approach. Instinctively, he looked at the door just as Sam walked in, and fought like hell to keep his eyes on Sam's face.

Sam's eyes dragged over Dean's chest, watching the rivulets of water moving across his flesh. He couldn't help smiling, Dean looked great and Sam figured he might never have another chance to get such a good view. Life really had become quite complicated. Sam's fingers slipped to the towel that was slung low on his hips. He hesitated just a moment and then pulled it off, tossing it on a nearby bench. Dean's eyes were burning into his flesh right along with the desire that was burning into his mind. It wasn't until that moment that Sam realized what a monumentally bad idea this whole shower thing had been.

He panicked a little and stepped under the shower head right beside Dean's, flashing him a nervous smile then turning the water on. He breathed in the steam and let the hot water run straight against his face. He gasped out a breath, the steam feeling good as he inhaled it into his lungs. Shoving both hands into his hair Sam leaned his head back and let the water soak into his hair.

No way! Dean wanted to go bang his forehead against the tile wall. Instead, he found himself watching Sam, his gaze traveling excruciatingly slowly from his face, now thrown back, to the water droplets sliding off his mouth, to his throat.... chest. Moving his head a little, Dean checked out Sam's back and tight ass... legs. His gaze swept back upwards, this time lingering for a few seconds on his cock, before he turned away with a loud sigh and grabbed the soap. "How're you doing?" he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sam hummed softly, loving the feel of the water on his back and Dean's eyes on his body. He grinned and dropped his head back down, looking over at Dean "well, it's... uh ... the most interesting shower I've had in a long time." He shrugged and turned to face the wall, mostly because he didn't want Dean to see the blush on his chest and neck and partly because he knew Dean would like a better view of his ass. He was still smiling when he held his hand out for soap from the dispenser and started to rub it onto his chest, under his arms and down across his belly. Yeah, it was a little cruel, but, after all, Dean didn't want to have sex with Sam so - really - he had nothing to lose. He shook his head, knowing that he was being ridiculous.

Mesmerized by the motions of Sam's hand against his body, Dean could almost pretend it was his hand... his hand sliding over soap slicked skin. His fingers splayed wide across Sam's abs, tracing the outlines of his muscles. He wanted to put his mouth there... right there... right were Sam's hand kept coming back to, the line between his hip and washboard stomach. Even closing his eyes didn't stop the fantasy, he could feel Sam's skin in his mouth, could feel him shuddering, could hear him begging for more as he moved his mouth lower.

Snatching at the liquid soap, he started to wash up real fast. The quicker he got done, the faster he'd be away from the 'bad porn' playing in his head. Or in front of his eyes, the way Sam was making a big deal of slowly washing every part of himself. "You wash like a girl. And you're being provocative again," he called Sam out on it. Hell, why should he just stand here and suffer?

Sam's face hardened a little. "If I'm being provocative it's because of the things I'm sensing from you." He shrugged. "You stop thinking about it, I'll stop doing it." Sam turned, rinsed the soap off his body, turned off the water and walked over to the bench to grab his towel. He ran it over his hair and rubbed it for a while then wrapped it back around his waist. He sat down on the bench and watched Dean's body while he finished up. They were nothing alike - considering they were brothers. Where Sam was tall and lithe, Dean was slightly shorter but much broader, more muscular. Long curves, versus hard lines. Sam sighed.

Seriously, had no one taught Sam shower room etiquette? Since when did you just sit there and blatantly.... Dean eased up before he broke a tooth. Rinsing his hair, his back turned to Sam, he ran his hand over his face one last time and shut the water. Reaching for the towel on the hook next to the shower, he wrapped it around his waist, then turned. His eyes clashed with Sam's... the heat between them was undeniable.

His fingers clenching over the towel around his waist, stomach muscles burning slightly from tension, he walked out of the shower room, trying to get to the locker quickly. Hardly drying himself, he got a pair of shorts on, then pulled sweats on over, releasing his breath just as Sam arrived. "Here," he grabbed some clothes that would fit, and handed them over, suddenly aware that while he might be dressed, his brother's nudity was still wreaking havoc with his system.

"Thanks," Sam's fingers brushed over Dean's and he was nearly drowned by the mixture of his feelings and Dean's. He was having trouble remembering why he wasn't just throwing Dean up against the wall and touching him in all the places...he coughed and shook his head. "Yeah, thanks..." he flushed and got dressed as fast as he could. When he was finally standing there dressed, and already sweating again, he took a deep breath. "So...this was ... good." He blinked, a warm smile on his face.

Dangerous. "Right. Good," he agreed, unable to prevent himself from smiling back. Hell, he recognized this feeling. Just like the awkward moments at the end of a date, when he'd been in high school. "Alright so... we'll do it again. Basketball." He slammed the locker shut.

Sam moved before Dean could turn around, slipped his arms around Dean's chest and pressed up against his back. The embrace was over as fast as it started and Sam spun quickly and left.

Closing his eyes, Dean stood there for a moment, letting feelings wash over him. It occurred to him he was playing with fire. Sam seemed to like pushing the envelope as much as Dean did.

* * *

Two days later, Dean was waiting for the elevator and listening to one of the colonists, a teacher, blonde... attractive, tell him in excruciating detail how she made her special chocolate lava cake. Damn... did he regret telling her that night, a while back, that he had a sweet tooth. Course he'd said it right before he kissed her, but now, every time they met, it was dessert talk. Usually, he walked away with his stomach growling and unsatisfied.

"Captain, you're missing the best part," she said in her throaty voice.

"Hmm," he gave his attention back to her.

"Oh yes, just one bite will convince you my chocolate lave cake is better than anything you've tasted... dreamed about. It's light and air, and once you cut it with a fork, the warm chocolate oozes out. You did say you liked dark chocolate," she said, almost conspiratorially, leaning in as if to keep the conversation private.

Sam rolled his eyes as he caught the end of the conversation and the innuendo. Admittedly, if she'd been speaking to anyone else he might not have felt so irritated - might actually have been amused. Sighing he put a broad smile on his face and nodded at Dean and was completely ignored by the woman. She was oozing thoughts about Dean, and it took Sam a few moments to realize that she and Dean had already spent some time together, slept together. Sam's eyes widened and he knew his lips had pressed into a hard line.

He folded his arms and waited for the elevator cursing, once more, his unerring ability to end up where he didn't want to be.

Feeling a tug, he looked over and saw Sam. Shit... he hadn't answer his call. Bet that look meant he was pissed. Dean rubbed his eyes, fine, maybe a movie or something would appease him.

"I make it extra sweet and thick, so it just sticks to your tongue."

Dean jabbed the call button.

"Do you like whipped cream? Oh, that's right, you do," she gave him a secret smile, following him inside the elevator and jockeying for a place right next to him. "Well do you?"

"Chocolate and whipped cream... better than..."

"Sex, right?" She giggled. "I'm going to make some. I'll call you," she said, pushing through the crowd and getting off on her floor.

Dean forced a chuckle. Well that was borderline pornographic, and he had an elevator full of people listening. As if that wouldn't be water cooler talk the next day.

Sam glanced over at Dean with a slightly disgusted look on his face then shook his head and tapped away on his wrist band. Sure,, Dean wasn't going to have sex with him but he would sleep with just about everyone else. It didn't make Sam feel any better that Dean was embarrassed that people overheard the woman, in fact, that made it worse. Sam was beginning to wonder what Dean said about their encounter. He sighed and leaned against the wall.

Raising a brow at Sam's look, Dean leaned forward and hit the close doors button. A minute later, the doors opened and practically everyone got off, like they were all going to some event or meeting and he was left alone with his brother. "How's it going?" If there was going to be drama over a missed call, he was going to give him a piece of his mind.

"Fine, thanks." Sam had to bite down on his tongue not to make some sort of comment about dessert. He nearly had to bite his tongue off to keep from commenting on Dean's sex life. "You?" He was pretty sure that he hadn't managed to hide the look on his face though.

"Busy." Sam definitely looked tense. "About your call... I was gonna get to it--" He frowned, "what the hell?" Not liking the grinding sound, he punched the button for the next level down.

"I'm not tense," Sam spat. He watched as Dean stabbed at the elevator button. "What's wrong with this thing? I swear this place is falling apart already."

"Stop reading my mind," Dean said through gritted teeth, punching the button again, then groaning as the elevator came to a grinding halt. "Great." Even before he pressed the alarm, a soothing voice was piped in, telling them to remain calm until the reason for loss of power was identified, and service restored.

Sam huffed out a breath and slid down the wall, sitting cross-legged. "Guess you're stuck with..." he squinted a little, the strangest sensation flooding over him, "me... for a while." Sam pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Man, I keep getting headaches - you people are killin' me." He forced a smile when he looked up at Dean.

"You setting up camp?" Dean asked, giving him a strange look. He had no intention of being stuck for too long.

"I'm conserving energy - what's the point in standing." Sam's head was throbbing but he wasn't going to say anything. "Besides, the way my luck works - we'll be in here a few hours." He realized as soon as he said the words that they could be taken more than one way. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. Even with his eyes closed he could feel Dean's tension building - Dean's idea of a good time was certainly not being kept from his duties, or confined in a small space with Sam.

"When we're outta here, go see about getting the headaches checked out." Instinctively, he knew there was an argument coming. "It's an order. I don't want our only Telepath breaking down... or anything." He exhaled loudly and cursed under his breath, staring at the useless buttons. Course his stomach rumbled out a complaint, all that talk of chocolate... As he eyed Sam, he knew lusting after food was a far better way to go.

Sam laughed softly, eyes still closed. "I'm not a car - I'm unlikely to break down. I just start to run a little rough every now and again." He was smiling - or - he was trying to. He was listening to Dean's stomach growl and trying to remember when he'd last eaten himself but there was something clawing at him, He felt something building, it reminded him of the times he had been to crowded sports events where there was a sort of loosely knit group-consciousness, a common goal. "Dean? Something... a bit strange ... might be happening." Pressure was building in Sam's head and he stayed as still as he could.

"Such as?" He was a bit leery, wondering if Sam was referring to whatever was going on between them, but the look on Sam's face said otherwise. Dropping down to Sam's level, he looked him in the eyes. "Something I need to worry about?"

Blinking his eyes open, Sam could feel the color draining from his face. "Dean? I think..." he was distracted, people were anxious, "call them back - get them - talk to someone." He wasn't sure if the elevator com would work so he yanked his wrist band free and held it to Dean.

Giving him a long look, he didn't accept the bracelet and got back to the elevator's communication pad. "What's the eta on getting us out of here? Hello?"

There was some static.

"Sir, there's a problem with the crystal battery sources, they've been... one moment... what? Ah, I'm not sure I understand, but seems like the supply has been covered, choked by some sort of ... weed?"

"Weed? Plants? Fuck." Releasing the speaker button, Dean used his own communicator to get in touch with his second in command. "Something's going on..." He looked at Sam, who looked in worse shape. "Listen, battery supplies have been...."

"I know, all systems are shutting down. We're looking into it."

"The vines... it could be a bigger--"

It was like an assault. Something forced its way in Sam, through him, grinding up his thoughts and oozing into his most personal memories. He was overcome by waves of emotion, curiosity, then fear, then anger. The anger was so violent that Sam cried out, hands grasping blindly for Dean. Remorse, loss, death. But it was the sadness that finally broke Sam’s tenuous hold on reality. His pale face was wet with tears and his eyes squeezed shut tightly. In a last desperate effort to protect himself he curled into a ball, unable, to even hear his own screams.

"Sam... what is..." Just as Dean dropped down next to him, he heard screams over the com. "What is happening... report... Goddamit, report!" The com went dead. "Sam?" Putting one hand on his back, knowing he couldn't to anything for him, he started trying to reach others. He either got static, or something that scared the shit out of him. Snippets that would be cut out.

"Captain, it's a nightmare. Something's breaking down the fucking door... nah... that's impossible... holy shit.... Arrrghhhh."

"Fires in Sections T and the lab."

"The children... oh God the children!"

Eyes wide, Dean shook Sam lightly. "I have to go out there... can you give me anything" his hand slid to Sam's temples, massaging them, a memory worming its way into his mind... that was how he'd eased Sam's headaches when he pushed him too hard to practice when they were kids.

Fuck, it hurt. Nothing had ever hurt Sam worse in his life. It felt like knives were stabbing into his head and he knew - that - for one of the first times ever his own thoughts were being stolen away from him. He was moving backwards through his own life; nothing constant, nothing steady. Warmth on his temples, Dean's fingers, tell me what I'm thinking, Sammy, "dead, they're all...". Mine, Sammy, "don't... go," Sam murmured, "it's... " he cried out again, scrambling toward the corner of the elevator, pressing his head against the cool metal, "D..Dean ...they're all dead..." Sam drifted further and further away from Dean's voice until it was dark, and cold and he was alone.

"That's impossible." Dean stood up, forcing himself to walk away from his unconscious brother. His communications device was useless no, no one was answering... no one at any of the facilities, even the fucking restaurants and bars. The school.

Pulling his weapon out, knowing shooting inside a closed elevator was not the most brilliant plan, but having no choice, he stood in front of Sam, aimed at the latch overhead and shot it twice. The bullets ricocheted but the casing fell harmlessly to the ground. Taking a breath, Dean jumped, his fingers reading for the narrow ledge near the roof of the elevator, part of its design. His fingers slipped. Cursing, he tried two more times, determined to make it.

On his last jump, he kicked up his legs, wide open, his feet flat against two opposing walls at the corner, helping to give him leverage as he scrambled up. He shoved the panel open, and managed to get a hold of the outside of the elevator, pulling his body up. One on top of the elevator, he looked up and saw the door to the floor half way up was slightly open. "I'll be back for you Sam, alright?" Closing his eyes to the images of letting his brother get pulled away from him, he slammed the panel shut.

Fifteen minutes later, using the butt of his gun and sheer strength, Dean pried his way out of the elevator doors and walked into hell. The lights were off, some places left in pitch black, but everywhere, there was death and destruction, bodies. The cause of death was different in very area, but the common theme was violent. Fire, electrical wires, heavy equipment crushing people, blood staining the modern floors, hand prints on the walls. Though it was silent, Dean could imagine the screams... the emotions that had to have hit Sam all at once. He needed to find out if anyone was alive, get the power back online, protect any power crystals he could get his hands on, and make sure that a distress call had been put out to Space corps. And ... he had to stop thinking about Sam, keep his head together, and take this one step at a time.


	8. Chapter 8

When Sam finally managed to crack his eyes open he was shivering uncontrollably. He looked around the small room... elevator...where was he going? He was so cold his teeth were chattering, which, just didn't make sense; but then Sam couldn't seem to make much sense of anything. His head was throbbing and every time he tried to push up off the floor his vision swam. It was quiet, _so_ quiet. Sam couldn't remember a time when his mind had been such a lonely place. He lay back down on the floor and waited.

By the time Dean dropped down onto the roof of the elevator, his face was grimy with soot, his hands were a little torn up, and he was half panicked at what he'd find. Seeing Sam, his eyes open, he let out a tremendous sigh of relief. "Sam, look at me. Up here," he said, seeing his brother looked lost, and knowing from what Dean had seen up there... that it could have shattered a Telepath's mind. "Sammy, it's Dean." 

Sam turned slightly on the floor, sucking in a deep breath. He blinked a few times and stared up at Dean's face, filthy and tired. He pushed up to his knees, crossing his arms over the top of his head. "Dean?" His head hurt so badly, he couldn't even think clearly - and it was so quiet.

"Yeah." He waited a moment. "Sam we gotta get out of here. You have to stand up, and then I'll help you, alright. Look at me, I'm gonna get you out of there, but you gotta meet me half way, okay?" Laying on the roof, he dropped his upper body inside the hatch, reaching his arms down. "Come on... I'll pull you up."

Groaning Sam pushed up to his feet, leaning against the wall. He looked up at Dean and rubbed his eyes again, "okay," he murmured. Trying to steady himself, Sam stepped to the center of the elevator and reached up. Trying hard to focus his eyes on the hand being held out to him. He stretched and grasped Dean's hand.

"Okay." With one hand, he gripped Sam's hand, with the other, he stretch lower.grabbing Sam's arm near his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he started to pull, straining against Sam's weight. He groaned with the exertion, but had Sam climbing out, and then caught him before he collapsed. "Good. Just a little way to go," he said thickly, enveloping his arms tightly around Sam for a moment, allowing himself that time to be grateful that he wasn't faced with either a cold body, or an empty elevator... both possibilities having tortured. 

Sam wrapped himself around his brother's warmth, his shivering made worse by the exertion of climbing up. "Stay here... a bit," he mumbled against Dean's shoulder, "head hurts." He was comforted by Dean's thoughts and feelings, it was still so silent. "So quiet," he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

"Need to get somewhere safe. Stuff's... happened." Giving both Sam and himself another couple minutes, he started to pull Sam up. He rubbed his thumbs over Sam's temples, just for another moment, then pushed him to climb up to the open door. "Step on my knee," he said, bending it to allow Sam to use him as a step stool.

Following Sam out, he grabbed one of the weapon filled bags he'd dropped next to the door and hiked it over his shoulder. "Do you know how to use this," he asked, locking and loading what looked like a classic sawed off rifle, but was an automatic. He slapped it into Sam's hand, "just point and shoot." Picking up the second bag, and preparing his own weapon, he nodded. "We're going down the stairs, then running across the greens. You're going ahead of me, until we get to the main building," which was where their units and headquarters were located. "Then I go in first, you got that?"

"Dean.." it was all moving too fast for Sam, "where .. where are we going?" He looked down at the gun in his hands, confused, "I ... can I go back to my quarters? It's so quiet." He shifted the gun around in his hands. Dean looked so worried, "where ... down the stairs, across the greens," he repeated - hoping to make Dean smile.

"We'll stop at yours, grab some things, but then you're coming with me. My place for now," he gave Sam a nod, grabbed his arm and started walking him to the stairs, looking around for signs of any movement. It was getting dark, and though he'd managed to get the emergency light back online, he'd set them on low energy and, within the hour, every building but the main one that they were going to would be plunged into darkness. 

As they headed down the stairs, he pushed Sam to the side so that he'd be the one stepping over the body and not Sam. Before his brother had time to react, they were in the main lobby of the building, and it looked like a war zone. Dead bodies were strewn around, that strange vine had choked many who tried to escape. Others appeared to have been killed by blunt force or fire. Seeing Sam's look, Dean shook his head. "I don't know... haven't seen anything like this... no visible enemy."

They reached the front doors, he walked out, looked around. "Alright, don't look back, just run. Go!" he gave Sam a shove.

Sam stumbled a few steps and then broke into as fast a run as he could manage. He slid to his knees when he got to the main building and looked back, barely able to see how far they had run. "Need a minute, Dean." He was panting, his head was aching so bad, and he was starting to feel nauseous again. "Dean? What's going on? Why can't I feel anyone?" His eyes were wide and glistening in the half-light.

"Don't have a minute, Sam," Dean answered, seeing a movement in the grass, opening the door and shouting at Sam to get inside, as he sprayed the area behind them with bullets. 

Sam dove through the door, scrambling forward then turning to watch as Dean fired of a few more rounds then slammed the door shut behind them. "Dean? You okay?" it was dark in the hallway, quiet, why was it so _fucking_ quiet everywhere. Sam shuffled back a little, reaching out for Dean's shoulder.

"Yeah." Dean manually looked the door then, moved his fingers over the face of his communications device, entering his code and pressing his thumb over the screen, before bringing it close to his mouth. "Main Building, complete level 6 lock down." Windows had been broken, doors had been invaded but once his order was given, a grinding sound reverberated through the building as metal shutters rolled down over every possible entry point into the building. 

Letting out a breath, though aware that the killer... or more likely killers... could easily be trapped in here with them. Putting an arm around Sam, he decided the stop at Sam's unit could wait, his own quarters were closer and Sam looked like he was on his last leg. His eyes skimmed the hallway now looking eerie in the blue light given off by the emergency lights.

When they reached his place, he got the door open, then as it hissed shut, helped Sam onto his bed. He dropped the bags, then looked his brother straight in the eyes. "Everyone's... they're dead. I'll search again later, in daylight... unless you feel anyone?" If Sam could pin point anyone who was alive, Dean would do whatever was necessary to get to them. 

Sam blinked a few times, _so tired_ , then closed his eyes and concentrated. It only took a few moments for him to confirm for Dean what he already knew, "no one." His mind flashed to the teenagers at the basketball court, the kids he passed on the way to the lab. Tears welled in Sam's eyes. "Dean? There were kids..." Sam shook his head and rolled away burying his face in Dean's pillow, tucking his hands under his armpits and falling silent.

"Yeah." There was nothing else he could say to that. Women, children, civilians, soldiers.... good people, all of them gone, the violence shaking even a hardened veteran of Space corps like himself. He disappeared from the room for a moment, then returned, sitting on the bed, next to Sam. "Take this, for the headache," he insisted, holding out the water and meds. 

"No," Sam shook his head gently. "I gotta get it back, gotta.. it's too quiet." He felt like he was been pulled inside out, there was something big ... _right here_ ... and yet - it could have been a million miles away. Sam had never been so lost - what if..? What if he couldn't read things properly anymore? How did you explain to someone like Dean, what it was like to lay on the bed with only two sets of emotions? Sam felt cut off from everything - it was terrifying.

"It's right here if you want it." Dean put them on the nightstand. He was about to grab a much needed shower, but something about the way Sam was looking at him made him realize if he left him alone now, there was a chance he'd fall apart. "Scoot over," he said, getting onto the bed the instant Sam did, then alternately rubbing his back and his temple. "Get some rest, please Sam. I know that had to overload your mind."

Sam shifted forward instantly, tucking his head under Dean's chin, hiding himself away - _like I used to do when I was a kid_. Sam was rocking gently against Dean's chest, his arm slipped over his brother's side. "You did that...." Sam was tuning in to Dean, feeling him so it didn't seem so lonely, so _quiet_ , "when I was a kid." His tears started quietly, he felt as though his brain had been grated over something sharp; he didn't say a word just shifted closer to his brother.

Dean nodded, then felt the wetness slipping along the skin at his throat. "Sammy... Sammy don't," he held Sam tighter, rocking with him, his throat convulsing... you'd think he was the Tel, it was like Sam's emotions were washing over him. "Sammy," he looked down, his mouth sliding down the side of Sam's face, maybe accidentally, maybe intentionally finding his mouth. Dean kissed him, tasting salt and sorrow, needing to do something for Sam. Their lips separated with a small smacking noise, and he took a breath, then slanted his mouth over Sam's in a slightly deeper kiss, this time allowing his tongue to penetrate Sam's mouth.

Sam rolled back and pulled Dean with him, he moaned softly tugging until Dean was lying across his chest. He wanted Dean's body weight to hold him down, press him into the bed and keep him on the ground. He stared at Dean for a few moments, his eyes wide and glassy then he kissed him back. It was urgent and needy, he wanted to get as close to Dean as possible, pull him inside to fill up the emptiness. "Dean, " he whispered against the other man's lips, "s'too quiet." His hands moved frantically over Dean's body, he tugged at his shirt and when he thought Dean might push him away Sam pushed his face into Dean's neck and bit down hard, tongue moving along the abused flesh.

Dean groaned and arched into Sam, pressing his throat down against Sam's mouth. Conflicting emotions clashed within, even as he slid his hand under Sam's head, held him closer, kissing his temples, his eyes, moving lower once Sam lifted his face and gave him access. Crushing his mouth against Sam's, he felt the walls he'd been building for days come crashing down. Heat erupted between them as their tongues tangled... dueled. He breathed in his brother's scent, his body reacting to it almost violently. Lifting up, mouth still welded to Sam's, he let Sam push his shirt up, sucking Sam's tongue in his mouth... reluctant to separate for even a second.

Sam couldn't breathe and he didn't care, he yanked Dean's shirt up over his head, shoving his brother back so he could pull it off. Dean's emotions, his feelings, washed over Sam. He felt wrapped up, held, _fuck,_ he felt like Dean was the only thing keeping him sane. His nails clawed at Dean's back as his tongue snaked in and out of his brother's mouth. Sam sucked his brother's tongue deep into his mouth even as his mind reached out, absorbing whatever Dean was willing to give. His hips snapped forward, heart thundering in his chest. He knew he was moving too quickly but he couldn't stop, his fingers dragged down Dean's back and ran around his waistband, tugging and fumbling with the clasp of his pants.

Whatever alarm bells were ringing inside Dean's head, they were drowned out by Sam's desperate motions against him. In silent agreement, he lifted up again, letting Sam undo his pants, cursing at the intensity of need swamping him the instant his brother's hand pressed against his arousal. Straddling Sam's hips, he put just a little pressure on Sam's back, and his brother moved as if one with his thoughts, jackknifing up so they were face to face, mouth to mouth. Hardly able to think anymore, Dean managed to open up Sam's pants, then started to shove his shirt up his body, needing to feel him, every inch of him, like he needed to breathe.

Sam moved under Dean's hands, lifted his arms and let Dean pull his shirt off and gladly pressed up against his brother's sweat slick skin. They were filthy, even as Sam's lips moved down the center of Dean's body he was slightly aware of the taste of sweat, dirt, oil. His hands slid around Dean's hips... "Dean..." he whispered, shoving his hands down the back of the other man's pants, cupping his firm ass and drawing him _so_ close. "I .. need..." his voice was muffled by Dean's chest, Sam's mouth moving everywhere he could reach. He captured Dean's nipple in his mouth, lips moving over it softly, tongue lapping at the pebbling skin as his fingers dug _hard_ into the firm muscle of Dean's ass.

Dean pushed back and forth, grinding his hips, getting some friction going as he rubbed his cock against the hard line of Sam's semi exposed shaft. Sam's roughness surprised him, but had his stomach clenching as he arched back as far as he could, trapped between his brother's large hands on his ass, and his mouth. His heart was pounding, he could hear it in ears, chasing away all other thoughts. Maybe it was the same for Sam, maybe now he had something to hear, something to replace the silence.

"Right here," he answered huskily, giving Sam another minute, before putting his hands on Sam's chest and pushing him down flat on his back. Crawling back, he pulled Sam's boots and pants off. Sam... his _brother_ looked so fucking hot... so needy, his face flushed, his mouth swollen... dark streaks of soot now marring his face and chest, it was rubbings from Dean's body... any chance Dean had at turning back, tanked right there. He kicked off his boots and practically dove on top of Sam, one hand tugging his pants down as he covered Sam's mouth, kissing him with unleashed desire. 

Sam grunted softly under the weight of Dean's body then moaned and wrapped his arms around his brother again. He wasn't even aware that he was speaking, but he was murmuring his brother's name over and over when their lips pulled apart. It was like some sort of mantra. He ground frantically up against his brother, desperate and fast, just wanting to feel something real, something right under his fingertips. Dean's face was beautiful, covered in dirt, soot, grime; his freckles were partially hidden; with all the things flooding out of Dean's mind Sam started to feel calmer, more centered - but nothing could stop or slow down how much he wanted Dean, not now.

Sam chased Dean's mouth when he pulled away, biting hard on his bottom lip and trying to tug him down closer.

"Shshsh, right here," Dean whispered, wincing slightly, but bearing down harder on Sam. Pressing his forearm into the mattress, he managed to get the leverage to lift up despite Sam's efforts, and to shove his pants all the way off. When he lowered his body, they were skin to skin, his brother's flesh practically searing him. He groped Sam, touching him all over, rolling onto his back so that Sam was on top and he could run his hands down Sam's back, his ass. He lifted his hips, groaning as their cocks rubbed together. He could read the impatience in Sam's expression, could tell he wanted to be under Dean. 

"We'll get there Sam, promise," he whispered, sliding his hand up behind Sam's head, he pulled his face down, kissing him hard, weaving his tongue mercilessly in and out of his mouth, tongue fucking him, trying for just a little foreplay, his other hand never stopping its exploration of every plane and angle of Sam's body.

Sam's chest was heaving, forcing oxygen into his lungs. His hips rolled more gently now, less urgently. The feel of his hard shaft sliding past Dean's was dizzying, almost too much but he wasn't stopping. The way Dean's hands moved over his body made Sam lose himself in his touch. It was surprisingly tender, not at all what he'd expected from Dean. Sam leaned up on his forearms, shaking under the strain, but trying to hold his weight off Dean as their bodies slid together.

Slowly, Dean brought his hand around to cup Sam's cheek, breaking the kiss, staring into Sam's eyes, kissing him again, moving his mouth back and forth, burning against Sam's lips. He kneaded Sam's ass, deliberately moving his hips up and down, just so, making hard contact with Sam's cock which was now leaving wet trails across his stomach. They stayed a few moments, just like that, and then Dean started to roll Sam back down under him. Foreplay was over.

Sam's body was on fire, he was so hard his cock was aching for release and each thrust of Dean's hips was sending tremors through his body. When Dean finally started to roll back on to Sam's body, his breath shot out of his lungs and he moaned long and low. "God, Dean... Please," he was shaking, struggling to keep his hands moving, wanting Dean's mouth on his. He strained forward, tongue darting out to run along the seam of Dean's lips, pushing past them and sliding into the other man's wet heat. Sam's body arched up off the bed, a long, lean curve, pushing his hips up against Dean's.

As they burned up together, Dean could only think about being inside Sam. Finally. Oh God, he wanted it so fucking bad, and every minute Sam moved under him like that, it brought Dean one step closer to not being able to wait. He practically had to fight to get free, and reach for the drawer next to the bed. Bringing the tube to his mouth, he caught the cap with his teeth and pulled it off. Then he was kneeling between Sam's legs, blindly finding his hole, leaning over and kissing him as he started to open him up. Sam's insistent tugs were hard to resist. "Let me do this... Sammy," he rasped, not wanting to hurt him.

Sam wriggled around under Dean like an eel, he didn't want him to stop, "fuck, just... it's fine... Dean," He grabbed Dean's hands with both of his and yanked him back down, moving both their arms up above his head, the long slide of Dean's body against Sam's feverish skin was almost unbearable. Sam bucked up against Dean's hips, his body aching for release. His lips moved over Dean's face, his eyes, his cheeks and down to his mouth. Sam's long legs wrapped around Dean's locking their bodies together. "Now...please," he bit down on Dean's bottom lip, tugging and pulling, his tongue sliding out running along Dean's smooth teeth.

He was going to refuse, should refuse, but Sam wasn't giving him a choice in the matter. His urgency was catching, like a wildfire, leaving Dean burning in its wake. Pushing Sam's wet hair back, he clamped his hand over Sam's forehead, preventing him from lifting his head, from reaching for his mouth as Dean offered him just his tongue, stroking Sam's, tangling with it outside their mouths. He started to thrust, his body moving like a wave over Sam's, a little harder each time. Finally, he aligned his aching cock, and started to push inside Sam, catching Sam's gasp with his mouth, still refusing to allow him to budge off the pillow. His eyes closed half way as he pushed past the tight ring of muscle and buried himself inside Sam. "So tight... so fucking tight," he said, moving slowly, allowing Sam's body to adjust to his, gritting out a "No," when Sam tried to make him go faster. 

Tremors of lust ran through Sam's body. The slow burn in his ass hurt, but it was shoving the fears and worries out of Sam's mind. He breathed in and out straining to reach Dean's mouth, smiling slightly at the control Dean wanted over him; always controlling everything. _Mine Sammy_. Still, it frustrated Sam a little, the way his tight muscle clenched around Dean's hard cock, and the way he was made to wait. Sam growled deep in his chest, hands cupping the curves of Dean's ass. His tongue reached for Dean's, straining. Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam strained his hips up, arching off the bed, mouth drifting away from Dean's as his shoulders pushed down hard into the mattress. "Mooove..." Sam almost purred, a gentle rumbling sound deep in his chest.

Despite his attempts, Dean learned how stubborn Sam could be, how he could fucking get his way at every turn. Like now, the way he moved, the way his soft demand was thundering in Dean's head, reverberating through his body. The way Sam deliberately clenched around his hard flesh, making it impossible for Dean to ignore his throbbing need. Cursing, he broke. He pulled out most of the way and rammed himself back inside, gritting his teeth as white hot heat slammed into him. Then there was no stopping him... them... he was fucking Sam, thrusting his hips harder and harder, grunting with the strain, to hell with it... to hell with all of it... their past... their future... this fucking planet... all the people... all the people gone...to hell with everything.. this was just between them, their moment, their fire, and that's all he cared about.

As Sam's hands pulled at him, demanding more, Dean became increasingly more aggressive. His kisses were rougher, though it was his own lip that was bleeding, not Sam's. His thrusts moved the mattress forward, hitting the headboard and making even the fixture creak and hit the wall. "Sam," he kissed him, felt himself drown in lust and inexplicable feelings, he groped, trying to find himself, trying to keep some semblance of control. "God Sam," he was so fucking tense now, the pressure building to uncontrollable heights. 

Wrenching himself suddenly from Sam's arms, he pushed Sam to lay on his side. Before he could complain, Dean pulled Sam's top leg up over his shoulder, and moved up so he was straddling Sam's bottom thigh, their thighs scissoring each other. Aligning his cock, he pushed into Sam once again, met his gaze, and wrapped his arms around Sam's top leg, pulling him forcefully up so that he was now balls deep. Pulling on Sam's leg, he started to lift him up higher and higher, making him meet his own downward thrusts, using his weight and gravity to help him get as far inside Sam as he could, so deep, there was no room separating them.

"Jesus," Sam groaned in between thrusts,"Dean.." Dean was ramming his cock into his ass so hard it was knocking the breath right out of Sam's body. _Control...always wants control_. Sam's lips parted wetly into a slight smile and he reached his hands up to move them over Dean's chest, catching his nipples tightly and twisting them slightly. He let Dean fuck him right into the mattress, didn't fight the position, thrust back when he could, when he couldn't, he just lay there and swore softly. His hand slipped down to his own weeping cock, his eyes burning into Dean's as his long fingers wrapped around his length. A few quick strokes and Sam's head fell back onto the bed, the sensation of his own hand and Dean's incessant thrusting was completely hot, and completely _too much_.

He loved it that Sam never looked away, that he allowed him to see every emotion in his eyes... hunger, need, frustration, and desire. It ratcheted up Dean's needs until lust was riding him like a bitch. "Fuck... fuck..." he thrust deeper inside Sam, held him in place for a few heartbeats, thrust and held again, a deep groan breaking from him as he fought the need for release, earned a little more time, then started fucking... going for the homestretch. "Sam... gonna come... now," he said, demanding his brother come with him, sliding his hand over Sam's until he was the one doing the stroking even as his balls tightened painfully against his body. "Now!" he growled, exploding deep inside Sam, filling him with his seed, shuddering with each wave of pleasure roiling through him. 

It wasn't so much the command that Sam heard it was the things that Sam felt inside - the way Dean wanted him, the way Dean's orgasm rolled through his body. Sam could feel the echo of release and pleasure everywhere within him. The wave that ran up through his body made his heart thump out an extra beat, and he muscles clenched as he came. His shaft throbbed and pulsed in Dean's hand, head thrown back so his neck was arched tightly, mouth open in a silent cry.

Watching Sam come apart at the same time heightened Dean's pleasure. He encouraged Sam with soft words as his brother's hot cum coated his hand and spurted against his stomach. "That's it, that's it baby," he whispered thickly, slowing his movements and letting Sam's leg go.

It felt to Sam as if there wasn't a bone left in his body. He reached up and grabbed Dean's body pulling him down, groaning and trying to settle his body into a more comfortable position. It was like a wrestling match trying to get Dean into his arms.

The little tug of war had Dean chuckling as he gave up trying to roll off Sam. "Dude... I'm too heavy." Not to mention he felt like he'd practically abused Sam's body with the rough sex. Slanting his mouth over Sam's, he gave him a quick kiss, and then dropped down onto his chest, his face in the curve of Sam's throat. He was still breathing hard, his heart still beating too fast, but a deep sense of calm was settling in him. A part of him was ashamed of that, he shouldn't feel like that at a time like this, but that was just the way it was. He ran his hand up Sam's throat, kissed it lightly and asked. "You alright?"

"No," answering honestly had come easy since the very moment Sam had met Dean. "But I feel calmer inside... less confused, less alone." His fingers threaded through Dean's hair, it was soft, soothing. The lack of commotion in Sam's head made him automatically focus on the other sensations around him. "And my head hurts like a _bastard_." He huffed out a small laugh. "You?" Unconsciously, he moved his hands over Dean's body, checking... he'd been so lost in himself before - he'd never even asked.

"Me? Fine, I didn't break my dick, if that's what you're asking," he smiled against Sam's skin and shook his head. "And I wasn't really asking about your head..." He took a deep breath, "you sure you don't want the meds?"

"Are you ever serious?" Sam's smile was fading, "and yeah, I'll take the meds - in a minute when I can move..."

"No one's accused me of not being serious before," he muttered. "Are you ever patient?"

"Yes." Sam laid back and said nothing, a smug expression on his face, fingers running through Dean's hair.

"You hide it well." He gave a sound of pleasure at having his hair stroked, stayed quietly still for a while, then stretched a little and pulled up, reaching for the meds and water. Seeing Sam flash his bitch face, he muttered, " _that face_... I remember." 

Sam took some pills, probably more than he should have and swallowed half the water, he offered the glass to Dean. "What are we gonna do, Dean?" Some of the worry had settled back in the pit of Sam's stomach.

"You... are gonna sleep and get some rest. Let me worry about this for now, we'll talk in the morning. I've got some ideas rattling around my head." Draining the rest of the water, he set the glass on the nightstand and dropped down on the bed next to Sam. "You want me to..." Without waiting for an answer, he reached across Sam's chest and put his fingers on his temple, massaging in slow circles. 

Sam smiled and locked his eyes with Dean's. "You used to do that... when we were kids." Sam sighed and reached down to rest his hand over Dean's hip. "Don't..." he yawned, "take off in the morning without talking to me." His fingers were moving on the warmth of Dean's hip, the same pattern Dean made on his temples. It was good. Sam's eyes closed quickly, the weight of everything catching up with him, and the safety of being near Dean - just about perfect.

"Night Sammy." He couldn't help the smile on his face, and wondered at the fact that he was feeling the pull of sleep.

Three hours later, Dean got out of bed, tucked the bedding around Sam and quietly padded to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he dressed in the living room, made some coffee and grabbed his weapons. Before leaving, he taped a note to the door: "Do not leave this room, this is an order." To make sure Sam understood it was his official order, he signed it Captain Dean Winchester.

It was still dark, and he had no intention of leaving the building until dawn, but there were a few things he needed to do. There was a dim blue light, so he didn't need his flashlight. He kept on the lookout for anything that moved. It could be plant life, or anything combustible... that's what he'd seen in the other building, somehow all combustibles had exploded. He saw some bodies, opened a door to someone's unit by overriding the code, and dragged them inside. If they didn't get off planet or get help soon, the bodies would pose the threat of disease. 

He eyed the elevator, and decided against using it. Taking the stairs, he went down to the office level, going into his own office first. He grabbed some of the computer equipment, including override codes for everything, and tossed them in his pack. Knowing it wouldn't work, he used the stationary communications equipment and was unable to call off planet.... something was still blocking all transmissions. "Sonovabitch."

Once he left his office, he went to the armory. Walking the aisles of shelves, he grabbed all sorts of weapons, including explosives and a machete. He'd need them when he did leave the building. Next he checked the storeroom for power crystals. There were none, dammit. Well they had to be somewhere, he had to replace the crystals that had been killed by the plantlife. 

Over the next few hours, he was all over the admin building, grabbign things they'd need, food, drink, medicine. He checked the shutters, to make sure there had been no attempts to compromise them, that nothing had tried to break inside. Then he went to the communications office. Checking the condition of the power crystals at least still juicing up this place, he found they should have enough for quite a while, though they'd need to continue to conserve their usage and hope that none of that plantlife got in here again..

After taking care of a few more things, he went to Sam's unit and grabbed some clothes for him. Stuffing those in his pack, he headed back, stopping once when he thought he heard a creaking sound, then continuing.

Sam was pacing back and forth like a caged wild cat. He was furious with Dean for leaving him in his quarters - he'd even asked him not to ... specifically. He'd been aware of Dean slightly at first, then he had disappeared - too far maybe for Sam to read him. There was nothing else... except for the faint underlying _oddity_ that Sam hadn't been able to identify. He knew it had something to do with... the events...he just couldn't explain _why_ he knew it. By time time Dean came through the door Sam was furious, he wasn't sure whether to punch Dean or kiss him.

"Morning," Dean said a little gruffly, checking behind him and closing the door. "Doesn't seem to be any activity in the building, at least. Got us breakfast, and some other things." He could feel the tension, it was thick between them. Knew Sam was angry, but he'd done what was right and best under the circumstances. "How's the head?" he asked, keeping it casual as started to pass Sam to get to the kitchenette.

"You know, Dean, I get that you've got this whole _control_ thing going on. Whatever, I'm a secure enough guy - you can have control whenever you need it." Sam sat down, relief washing over him. "I asked if you would just talk to me before you left this morning ... so I would know what was going on. Is this how it will always be?" Sam looked down, "I don't want," he didn't even know what they were doing. "Are you always going to discount what I ask you for? Just tell me now - so I know what to expect."

"Always? I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't turn around, but started putting the foodstuffs away. "And there is no control thing, you were supposed to _sleep_. It isn't my mind that got shattered by.... by what happened." Discounted.... what the hell? He selected two breakfast rolls and opened up the packages to pop them into the oven. "Coffee?" He was already pouring two cups.

Sam tilted his head. There was his answer, _right there_. Some walls weren't just around someone's mind. "Sure, coffee's great - cream and sugar?" Sam sniffed, carded his fingers through his hair and moved over to sit on the couch. The problem was every time thoughts started to move through Sam's mind he thought about all the people... all the loss. If he'd been somewhere else - maybe he could have warned someone. He was unsettled; Sam had always been really good at his job, and this felt like - somehow - he'd just missed everything he should have noticed.

Heating the food on auto speed, Dean brought the plates and coffee. "Help yourself," he nodded at the cream and sugar than sat on a chair, across from Sam, then drew it closer. "Alright. Let's talk." He hoped to hell it was about the situation and not about last night.

Sam grabbed the cream and sugar, putting some of each in his coffee. Sam knew exactly what Dean meant and knew he wasn't going to talk about _them_ anymore. "Did you find out anything while you were out ... there?" He nodded at the door.

Dean shook his head 'no.' "Something is jamming all off world signals, I don't know what it is and I don't think it is the general power loss. I've secured the power source for this building, I hope," he shrugged. "From what I saw yesterday, there's hardly enough power to run anything in the other buildings, the one's I took a look at." He ran a hand over his face and grabbed his breakfast roll, taking a big bite. After chewing a while, he spoke again. "I've run across species that can animate plant life and make it do its bidding. I've also heard about sentient plant life, but other than the fucking vines that only appear when," he looked down thinking of the deaths, "...like a fucking twentieth century horror flick... have no evidence or hint of what's going on."

Sam rubbed his forehead, "it's big, Dean, whatever it is." Sam could still feel the aftershocks from the day before - his mind almost bruised. "I've never had contact with anything like that before. It was... taking my memories from me - like it was _reading_ me. Did you feel anything like that at all?" Sam's eyes locked on to Dean's. There were still boundaries, Sam got that, he'd never reach for Dean's mind without asking. And he wasn't asking anymore. 

"Nah... I didn't feel anything. This... it's a thing, right? Not human? Is it close to any other species you've communicated with?" He didn't ask what it might have felt like to have your mind violated, he knew only too well.

Sam shrugged. "I think it's a ... thing." He took a sip of coffee. "It surprised me, I wasn't ready at all for it and it just ... well," he looked up, his face reflecting the guilt he felt deep inside, "I didn't even get a chance to learn anything about it. Kind of dropped the ball I guess." He rubbed a hand down his face. "I'll be ready for it - if ... when it happens again. What are we going to do now? There's no one left here... is there...." It wasn't as though he couldn't tell. It was so quiet. If it weren't for the faintest sensations from Dean - there would be nothing - Sam would be alone with his own thoughts. "Is there any way for us to get a message off-world?" He was sure Dean had already thought of it but it couldn't hurt to let him know he was still able to think things through.

"I'll keep trying." He ran his thumb under his eye and blinked, getting rid of a stray lash. "I have some ideas, and maybe low tech is the way to go, but I'll need to get back to the lab. Waiting for daylight. I want you to record everything you feel or know about this thing, whether it gets transmitted or not, it needs to be in our record banks." If they didn't make it, those who came after needed to know. "I figure a week... two weeks max before the radio silence draws attention to us." Slapping Sam's shoulder, he looked at the food. "You're hurting my feelings rejecting my cooking. Eat something." 

Sam picked up the breakfast roll and took a couple of bites. He chewed thoughtfully for a while. "Dean? Is this because of me somehow?" He tilted his head a little and dropped his roll back on the table. "Do you think I should have paid more attention? Maybe if they had put someone ... I don't know - stronger here things would have been okay."

Dean met his gaze eyes again. "No Sam, I don't think it's anything like that at all. If I know anything, it's that you put in a hundred and fifty percent. This thing... this situation, it's unique. The scientists couldn't figure it out, and we've only been dealing with it a short while." He nodded at the roll again, silently urging Sam to eat. "Okay, you say it went through your mind. What if..." His brows furrowed as he thought about it. "Do you think it spared you? Me by association?" Guess he'd find out later, when he was out there again. 

"I don't know..." Sam's mind was so clouded with all that sensations, "maybe, it's like... _fuck_. It's so frustrating." He picked up the roll and took a bite, sensing Dean's frustration that he wasn't eating. "I'm fine ... I eat when I'm hungry, Dean." He flushed. "I didn't look for that - it just came at me - your thoughts I mean." Sam chewed and swallowed. "It was like that thing was trying to find out something... almost trying to learn... but I don't know - until I find it again. I was thinking - I should head back out to where it last was and see if I can pick up on anything."

"Where it last... Sam, it was _everywhere_ , all at once. Here... every building..." He didn't like the idea of Sam going out there, but he knew what Sam meant, that hole in the ground where they'd been getting readings, where the tents lab had been set up. He also knew if it had been any other person from Tel Unit, he'd be dragging their ass out there.

"You know what I mean," Sam's voice was strained. "It's not like I missed seeing what we ... walked through to get here." He looked down and pushed his food away. "I'll get dressed and head out there - I'm sure you have... things to do?" 

Dean's hand shot out and he grasped Sam's forearm. "You are not going out there alone."

"I've got just as much training as anyone else here, I need to go and do my job, find the source of this thing." Sam shrugged off Dean's hand and walked over to grab the bottle of painkillers and poured four into his hand. He moved back to the counter top pick up a bottle of water. "I'm going to start back where the first ... body..."

Jaw clenched, Dean looked at his watch. "Not for a half hour. We need light. I brought your clothes, and other things you might need. In the grey duffel," he nodded toward the kitchen. 

Sam tossed the pills toward the back of his throat and took a drink to swallow them. "I hate those things - should get a hypo shot from the med bay." He cringed, "or a few maybe." He moved over to his duffel and unzipped it, pulling out some fresh clothes. Stripping down he tossed his dirty clothes in the corner and stepped into a clean pair of shorts. "You got a plan? You're the military guy." He turned, holding his pants in one hand, "is there any place that's safer than here? Should we move?"

"No. Admin is safest. Ordinarily the lab would be but there's lots of flammable chemicals and that's what... I've seen the damage from it. Communications are in this building too, and the power's still working. I cut as much of the damned vines away as possible. The've choked the crystals in some of the buildings completely." He deliberately looked away so he wasn't watching Sam undress right near the door and kitchen, instead of taking a step into the bedroom area. "I'll take you to the site... do whatever you need. I got some other things to do, but only after you're back here." He saw the stubborn tilt of Sam's jaw. "I am still the Captain here, and you are under my command." As if he was going to let someone from Tel Unit face whatever was responsible for all this destruction alone.

Sam could feel a muscle in his jaw twitching as he tugged his pants on. "Fine ... then I'll come with you later when you go to do whatever it is ...you're going to do." It wasn't lost on Sam that the information seemed to be flowing only one way between them.

"Hey... Enough with the reading me shit, I'm serious." He gave Sam a look. "You told me you weren't going to pull that crap with me."

"What?" Sam was confused, "I..I.. didn't - I said I wouldn't and I didn't. Some stuff just comes at me...." He buttoned up his shirt. "Are you ever going to trust me or is this something I should get used to?" His fingers were shaking a little as he fastened the buttons.

Watching him, Dean closed his eyes for a moment, but then found himself walking to Sam. Pushing his hands out of the way, he started to button his shirt. "Listen, I spent years with people trying to break inside my mind, alright? It's ... conditioning, it's not you. There." He smoothed the front of his shirt, as if this was the most natural thing to do, and looked up.

Sam let a slight smile grow on his mouth and reached out hesitantly to touch Dean's waist. His fingers just settled their lightly. It was all so new, he didn't really know how Dean was expecting him to act. Hell, Sam didn't even know if the night before was a one-time thing or if there was the potential for more. 

Dean cleared his throat. "You're the telepath... you tell me." He was reading Sam, not his mind, but his body language.

Sam blinked a few times and met Dean's gaze. "I don't know what you ... expect from me. So yeah, I'm nervous. I don't know if you're going to push me away or kiss me or yell at me." He glanced down at Dean's chest, his fingers settling on Dean's belt. "I don't know if I'm supposed to not touch you.. during the day...or ... maybe never again. I just don't know - if I don't read.. I don't know anything."

His insides fluttered, his mind flooded with questions... Sam's... his own. Last night... this morning. Boundaries... he liked boundaries, but he wasn't so sure anymore, about anything. "Truth is, even if you read me, I don't think you'd get an answer. Last night was..." he swallowed. "... we'd both been through a lot. It could have been about that, I thought it was about that. This morning, I wished that maybe it hadn't happened." Seeing the flash of hurt in Sam's eyes, he reached out and grabbed his arm. "Because it complicates this, that's the only reason. Are you supposed to be my brother? Or a lover? And don't jump at door number two. I never had a relationship, Sam. So I don't know." He licked his lips. "You got any thoughts on this you'd like to share?"

Sam pulled back, scratching his head. "No, I don't. Listen, don't worry about it - you're probably right - sex and death - you know the big philosophy. We..I was upset - we dealt with it. I.. maybe I wish it hadn't happened too." Right in that moment, he wished _very_ much it hadn't happened. He turned and went back to try and find some socks in his duffel, well, that and hide his face from Dean. Sam's insides were falling apart. He cleared his throat, his voice thick with emotion in spite of it, "I'll just finish getting dressed and then I'm ready whenever you are."

"Take your time, there's no rush." He wanted to put his fist through something. He knew Sam was covering, trying to be casual, knew there was something simmering... boiling, but Goddamit, they didn't have the time and weren't in position to find out what the hell it all was or meant, they had this.... this world-killer to deal with.

He started to pace, avoiding looking at Sam. They'd make it through this, then figure out their own issues.

Sam found his jacket and pulled it on then stood there, looking around Dean's quarters.

Once it was sun up, Dean rummaged through the weapons and gave Sam a choice. Taking a decent selection, and more in a pack he threw over his back, he asked Sam to make sure his bracelet was functioning. Then they were back out in the hallways. He took the route he'd taken in the morning, when he'd cleared out some of the bodies. He told Sam what his code was for bringing the security shutters up and down, just in case anything happened and Sam had to get back here alone to find cover. "Don't forget it... write it down on your arm if you need, there's a marker in my back pocket."

"Don't need to write it down," Sam shifted his gun on his shoulder strap, "it's my birthday. Don't think I'll forget that." Sam moved up to Dean's side, eyes moving over the hall in front of them, "won't use it anyway, not leaving you out here for any reason." He moved down the hallway knowing Dean would be following him.

"Your birth..." he let out a breath. He'd used that code on so many things over the years, from the lock on his first classic car knockoff, to safes in hotel rooms. None of the numbers had meant anything to him. They reached the exit, and glancing at Sam, he entered his brother's birthdate and made a selection to raise only the shutters at this exit.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam slid outside the door, gun raised, keeping his mind on high alert. There was nothing near him, just Dean. He nodded at his brother and bolted across the greens, knowing that Dean would be at his back. It was so strange, being there without the other crew, no science officers, no colonists, none of the background buzz he dealt with all the time. The internal silence seemed even worse to Sam once he was out in the more public areas. The silence was deafening. He kept the weapon closer to his body.

To Dean, the 'day after' the catastrophic event was even eerier, almost surreal. A planet, a compound of buildings, and just the two of them. The two of them and some murderous thing that had not been identified and which could apparently animate plant life, make things combust, and who knew what other weapons of choice it had. Covering Sam, Dean was on the look out for anything... anything that moved.

It was cool in the mornings. Each breath that left their bodies hung in a cloud of mist for a few minutes before dissipating. They reached the tented area and Dean dropped some of his gear, then looked inside a couple of the tents surrounding the pit and boring equipment. "Don't get too close to the edge," he said, even though the tangled vines in it were dried and appeared dead.

Sam dumped his gun unceremoniously on the ground and walked straight to the edge of the pit. He dropped to his knees, opening his mind as wide and far-reaching as he could. Sam's body swayed forward, almost drawn to the opening. Sensing Dean's anger at him, his need to take back control of the situation, Sam held up his hand. Wait.

It took everything Dean had not to walk up to Sam and pull him back by the scruff of his neck... his collar. He didn't know if Sam was just testing his patience on purpose or what. Sure he was a professional, but there was that added undercurrent between them and no matter what either of them did, it still played out, spilled over into their decisions.

There was something, faint, small - almost too small to be the massive force that had destroyed everything in their station. Filtering out the thrumming feelings of his brother, shoving him to the background of his mind, Sam let his mind move over the plant life around him. Echoes of the strangest mixture of emotions moved into him: fear, curiosity, anger and an underlying hostility. Territoriality. The ground beneath Sam shifted, moving like an organic wave. "Dean?"

A second after Sam said his name, Dean felt it too. A buzzing, a vibration, like the start of an earthquake. "Get back," he said automatically. He took a step toward Sam and heard a loud booming sound behind him, like an explosion. Turning, he saw a tree trunk moving toward him sliding along the ground with the force and speed of something that had been shot out of a canon. His rifle useless, he tried to dodge out of its projected course.

Moments before the trunk started to move, Sam's body moved into action. He was slammed with anger... something was defending itself. It took fractions of seconds for Sam's mind to mull over the emotions ... they had done nothing - defending itself from what? Their weapons? They'd done nothing. He turned toward Dean - feeling - Dean's body tense. Sam's eyes darted to the moving trunk, alive, aanimated organism. His brow furrowed as he sensed it's goal.

"NO!" Sam screamed and launched himself across the front of Dean's body. A branch slammed into Sam's chest, knocking the breath out of his lungs, searing pain shot through his body. Sam sensed something different at the last moment, just as the firm vegetation slammed against him, it seemed to pull back, curiosity. "We... " Sam could hear the trunk rustling back away from them as he tried to heave oxygen into his lungs, "safe... now..." He curled his arms across his chest, squeezing his eyes shut, "fuck...that hurt." Sam let his head fall back against the ground, he chest aching.

"Sam!" Dean was leaning over him, eyes still on the trunk that had retreated but was aimed toward them. "Sam..." Dean ran his hands over his brother, and seeing as Sam didn't shout, he guessed there were no broken ribs. "Once we patch you up, I am so going to kick your ass," he said, relief evident in his voice. Brushing back the hair out of Sam's eyes, he shook his head, then started to help him up.

"Just..." Sam panted, "had my ass," he grimaced, "kicked." Sam's eyes moved back to the trunk, "s'okay... Dean..." Sam tugged his arm out of Dean's grasp and took a shaky step toward the trunk. It shuddered and reared slightly. He could still feel the hostility ... "we ... should get away from this thing..." Sam stepped back so he was beside his brother, fingers reaching out towards Dean's hip. "It's ... curious," but it was still more hostile than anything Sam had ever experienced. This trunk, the organic life, was just a weapon - no more alive than Sam's gun. Slowly, Sam reached down, wincing and grabbed his gun. He tugged Dean toward the Admin building they'd come from.

"Curious? So curious it fucking needed to ram itself up our asses?" He gaged the distance to Admin, versus the lab building, but still thought Admin was a safer bet. "Alright... Listen, see that security vehicle? It was closer than either building. Head for it, don't look back.... you can run?"

"I can run." Sam wasn't very happy with the emotions that wafted off Dean. "I can run." Taking as much of a deep breath as he was able to do, Sam took off, he stumbled a few steps then loped the rest of the way. He slammed into the side of the truck, wincing and looking back at Dean.

Staring at the trunk for a long moment, Dean started to run. He heard that same rumbling noise but when he reached the truck and turned, he saw it hadn't moved. "You waiting for an invite? Get the fuck inside," he growled at Sam, then went around and got into the driver's side. Hopping in, he started the vehicle and drove up to the entrance of admin. They both got out, and Dean was using the keypad on the outside, his hand on the rifle but knowing there were a hundred projectiles around them that the rifle would be useless against. A moment later, the shutters were raised, the door opened, and they were inside.

Securing the shutters again, Dean had one hand flat against the window of the door, looking out as the view was slowly covered by the metal shutters. "Well, that was a bust."

"It was far from a bust, Dean." Sam took a few moments to try and catch his breath. "That thing, whatever it is, it knew we were there - and..." Sam steeled himself for the shit he figured he was going to have to take over what he was thinking. "It was something to do with me.. saving you. It stopped. It was going to kill you, me," he shrugged, "both of us - but it was curious about the way I reacted." Sam shifted back and leaned against the wall trying to relieve some of the pressure in his aching chest. "That's not a bust, Dean."

"The next time you want to play hero, don't," Dean snapped, starting to head back. Several long steps later, he gave a grudging, "thanks... even if it was foolish, because you didn't know it would stop." Sam was right, they were going to have to brainstorm this. "We need to figure out what the hell it wants."

Sam got up slowly, using the wall to support himself for a few seconds. "I wasn't playing hero. It's my job to interpret what I sense and act on it. I acted on it. It was nothing personal and I wasn't playing anything." Sam brushed past Dean heading for his office. "Hurry the hell up," he tossed back over his shoulder, "I need some water."

Making a face, but saying nothing, Dean lengthened his strides. He got them inside his office, slammed the door shut and went to get Sam some water. Maybe the impersonal office was a better place to talk than his unit. Setting the water on the table, he went around it, sat at his desk and waited for Sam to sit down.

"Alright... tell me your theories, or what you felt... sensed... anything, even if it sounds ridiculous or untenable." Dean watched Sam's throat convulse as he drank the water, and dragged his gaze away, instead getting the info pad and reaching for the electronic pen.

"I told you," Sam walked over to the mirror hanging near the first aid station and unbuttoned his shirt. He leaned forward so he could check the bruising on his chest. "I'm really tired of getting my ass kicked." He shook his head. "It was like the thing was feeling territorial - but it's not the organic matter." Sam's brows drew together, "I think this thing might have been here before us," he held up a hand to silence Dean. "I know we did all the tests, we followed protocol for first landing to the tee. But," he shrugged, "it's old..and it was here and whatever the hell it is ... it's not happy that we're here."

Turning to face his brother he walked over to sit down, leaving his shirt unbuttoned. Frankly, even the feel of the materials grazing his bruising skin was uncomfortable. "I need to go back to the edge of that... pit..by myself." He dropped down into the chair, wincing.

"Over my dead body." The words were out in a rush, before Dean had time to edit, to give professional reasons, to make them more palatable. But he'd laid down the law and it was out there, in black and white. His gaze drifted to Sam's chest. Maybe he could make a run for the med station, bring back a healing lamp. Yeah, soon as he got Sam buttoned down somewhere. He reached into his drawer, and put a couple of pills on the table. "Might help."

"Stop giving me pills all the time ... and stop letting your personal feelings get in the way of me doing my job. If I were any other Tel you'd be glad to send me back out there on my own. You'd probably enjoy it." He regretted the accusation a little once he'd said it, but most of it was true.

Dean's eyes darkened. "Glad? Maybe," he ground out, "but I wouldn't fucking let anyone... you getting this part... anyone out there, alone, when this entire compound is under fire." Which didn't mean it wasn't doubly true of Sam. "I know you think a couple of forays into my mind mean that you know me, but you don't." He leaned back in his chair. "You want to go by the book on this, fine. I want an official report, everything you know... and give me every reason you think you need to be out there alone. And don't get any idea that I'm authorizing it ... I want to know your reasoning, that's all."

Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. "Let go of the mind thing, I'm over it." And he was, he pretty much no intention of going anywhere near Dean's mind. He cleared his throat. "I need to be alone - you, you radiate all these feelings at me ... now ... since," he waved his hand dismissively, "and you have no ability to communicate with whatever this thing is and I think, I might actually be able to try." He looked up, catching Dean's eyes with his own, "and, if something happens to you we're screwed. I have no knowledge of this station's security features, I don't have the same training as you. You, don't have the same abilities as me. This thing was going to kill you, I stopped it. Obviously there's something about me - that was significant enough to mean something to ... it." He tilted his chin, "Captain."

"You," Dean pointed at him, "had no problem working at that and other sites, with the feelings of hundreds of people coming at you, and you're telling me that now, you can't block even one person? You want me to believe that?" He leaned forward. "Well I don't, Mr. Wesson." Gazes locked, he continued. "I saw what you saw, I get it stopped for you. But tomorrow, it could change it's mind, and I'm not taking that chance. I am not sitting on my ass in my office while the last civilian in this death trap of a community is killed." He had enough blood on his hands... shoulders, and maybe he was keeping that locked in real well, but that was because he was good at compartmentalizing his feelings.

Sam's gaze hardened. "I haven't been fucked into the mattress by the other 253 people who were here." He looked down, "whether or not you accept it - what we did - makes it harder for me to block you. Physical connection, especially when it's emotional - for me anyway - makes my connection to you stronger. It's like you've turned up your transmitter. I can't focus on that thing out there with you there - you're like a bee buzzing around my head. It's distracting and dangerous to me."

"Then maybe you should have thought about that before you engaged in any se..." Dean's hand sliced through the air in frustration. He closed his eyes, took a breath. "Sorry... that wasn't fair," he admitted. "This thing... it's getting out of hand."

Getting up, he crossed the room to get himself a glass of water. "If we hole up... forget what is out there... it'll be maximum one to two weeks before the communications silence draws attention, and another two to four weeks max before an investigative team arrives. We have enough supplies to hold out." He returned. "What I'm trying to say is, with only two of us left, there may not be a point to trying to figure out what the hell it wants. It's done its damage. Putting your life at risk ... mine...doesn't get us anywhere." He would still need to make a few runs back and forth to make sure the power supply continued and they had everything they needed, but for the most part, they could stay in Admin.

"This is my fault," Sam stood up, "I'm not hiding in here with all those..deaths on my conscience. You want to stay here that's fine. If I have to I'll resign my position officially and then you can't stop me from going back out there." He was angry. He was tired of wrestling with Dean over every little thing - it was wearing him out. He just wanted to do his job and be left alone.

"The hell I can't, I am still the ranking officer here. Make no mistake, you take one step to get out there alone, and you will find yourself in the the confinement chamber. Don't fucking push me, I [i]will[/i] do it." Pushing the glass away, he did something unprecedented. He pulled his chair from behind the desk over to Sam, sitting closer. "Those deaths are not your fault. You help people with guilt complexes all the time, now help yourself. I need you lucid, I need you clear minded, and... less emotional."

"I am perfectly lucid and being emotional - it's what I do. Just like you expect me to accept what you do - and that you're trained to do it well - you need to accept that about me. You are the least emotional person I've ever met Dean." Sam looked away from the other man. "My emotions are what make me good at what I do. It's why my career has turned out the way it has. I don't disconnect my emotions from the beings I work with. Some Tels work just with thought patterns, some with images, I work with emotions. I can't shut down and be all professional like you and still do my job." He looked back at Dean, his eyes softening a little. "You can make the decision you feel is right. You and I both know I can save a lot of other lives if I can figure out a way to communicate with this thing. How do you know that it won't just attack the investigative team when they get here? Tell me that you can guarantee that won't happen and I'll do what you say." Sam quieted.

He kept visualizing himself letting Sam go out there alone, and he knew... he just knew he couldn't do it. "I'm not making that decision now." He jaw pulsed. "I want to explore all options, and maybe find a way past the communications block. Then no one would be coming in blind." He knew they'd be armed to their teeth when they came, but they wouldn't be prepared for this type of enemy.

"Fair enough." Sam sat back in the chair, fingers twitching on the arms. "What should... I do now? Got anything I ... can help with." He poked distractedly at his chest, trying to assess the damage.

"I was going to clear this floor and level two of bodies, then seal the other floors off. You don't have to help with that. Why don't you get some rest, or work on your reporting?"

"I can help. You shouldn't do that alone." Sam pushed up off the chair and started buttoning up his shirt again. "Can we relax the whole reporting thing if I continue to tell you what you need to know?" Sam's head was tilted to the side, his eyes moving over Dean's face.

"It's not busy work, Sam. We need a record, in case we don't make it," he answered, getting up. "I made mine this morning. I'll be doing additional entries tonight. You can keep yours brief," he nodded.

"Alright," Sam moved around to pick up a reporting tablet and settled over on the couch which was probably intended to make the office a little less impersonal. "I'll be here, I guess." He tried a small smile.

He slapped Sam's shoulder. "There are some snacks in there," he nodded at the cabinet. "Liquor, in the bottom drawer." With that, he walked out.

* * *

A good six hours later, Dean had finished the gruesome task of taking all the bodies he could find down to the basement level. He was a little choked up, there were more than a few people he'd considered friends. By the time he opened the shutters at the exit, and was outside, in the truck and gunning it toward the hospital, he was actually glad to get out of the building and feel the cool wind on his face. That fucking tree trunk was still there, but it wasn't moving.

He was in and out of the hospital facility in a matter of minutes, grabbing everything he needed and might need if they had an extended stay. Then he was back in the truck and heading for Admin. Night was starting to fall, so he was glad when he got to the door... not that they'd had much luck during the day either. The instant the door opened, he was inside, re-securing the building. Then he headed down toward his own unit, needing to wash the stench off him.

Hitting his communications device, he told Sam to meet him back at his unit, and though he thought the hallways were secure, to keep aware of his surroundings. The snort from his brother didn't bother him at all.

Sam took his time getting to Dean's quarters. There were a couple of reasons - he didn't want Dean to get used to him hopping every time he ordered him to and he knew that Dean was going to be a snake pit of emotions after dealing with all the bodies. He took a deep breath as he came around the corner already able to sense Dean's presence. He tapped at the door.

By the time he pressed the button let Sam in, Dean had taken a shower and had one of his earth pizza's in the oven. The smell was comforting, as was the sight of Sam in ways he couldn't fathom or verbalize as he searched his face. "Hope you're hungry." Yeah, even the grisly work of the hours before had done nothing to dampen his legendary love of food.

"I could use some food." Sam walked in and stood by the counter, a little uncomfortable. No one had ever knocked Sam off-kilter like Dean did, he was never quite sure where he stood. Right now? There wasn't much coming from Dean. It was like Dean had struggled to put back the walls he could. Maybe that was for the best. "Was it horrible?" He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up.

"Pretty much, yeah." He'd thrown his clothes away, and the bandanna he'd used over his nose. "It'll be another fifteen minutes. I can take care of your chest now, if you wanna sit on the couch or get on the bed." Opening a beer for Sam, he left it on the counter next to him, and went to grab the medical unit from his bag.

Sam snatched the beer off the counter and took a long drink. "I finished my report," he said. Sam moved over to Dean's bed and sat down gingerly. His muscles had started to stiffen as the day progressed. "Ya know, I'm really tired of being beaten down by things." He stretched his neck to the side and rubbed his shoulder.

Following him into the bedroom, Dean gave him a sympathetic nod. Only after he got on his knees on the ground in front of Sam and started to push his shirt off his shoulders did it occur to him it might have been better to drag a chair inside. "You're bruising pretty good." Course he had to think about why Sam was bruised, how he'd jumped in front of a projectile like that. "Don't do that again... take a hit for me. Please." Flicking the switch on his hand held medilamp, he started sweeping the red healing light back and forth over Sam's chest. "That's not an invitation to argue. Just say 'yes', even if you don't mean it."

A smile tugged at the corners of Sam's mouth. "Yes." He shifted so he could bring his legs in to rest against Dean's sides. Of course, Sam would do it again in a second. He hadn't even really had to think about it ... as soon as he got the sense that Dean was a target - Sam's body just acted. He'd lost his brother once, he wasn't going to stand by and watch it happen again. "It just ... well, I lost you ... before." Sam dropped his head, hair falling down over his face.

"I know." Back at you. He tried to clamp down on his feelings, now that he knew it was interfering with Sam in some ways. His free hand followed the path of the light, skimming over skin that was healing... going back to its normal color. Working carefully not to stay too long in one location, he found himself fighting the incredibly illogical need to just... to kiss the injuries better. His eyes lifted, but Sam wasn't looking at him. "Hurt here?" he asked.

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes on Dean's hands. He knew the lamp was doing the healing but it was Dean's rough palm smoothing over his flesh that dulled the ache the most. He brought his legs in closer, noticing that Dean rested his elbows on Sam's thighs as though it was second-nature. "How are you? You're ... blocking me out ... so I don't ..." He let his head fall back, stretching out under the warmth and tingling sensation that came from the medi-lamp. "Where'd you get this anyway? I didn't know there was a med bay in the area."

He was quiet for a few moments, concentrating on what he was doing. "Got it with medical supplies. Figured we'll need them if we keep 'getting our asses kicked. Better to have them on hand now," he shrugged. "I'm alright. Raise your arm?" He moved to the lamp over Sam's well defined muscles, noticing the goosebumps and smiling a little.

"Alright," Sam echoed softly, "guess I'll have to take your word for it." For some reason his mind was still poking at the idea of the med lamp. "So - I don't get it - where did you go to get the lamp? You were just on this level weren't you?" His skin was thrumming under Dean's touch, this was the most gentle Dean had ever been when he was touching Sam. It was good, rough as his brother's hands were, with scars, hard work, the touch felt good.

"Cleared two levels. Made a quick run for it... the supplies. " He didn't want to think on that anymore, and he refused to. "Chin up." Dropping the lamp onto the bed, Dean reached for one of the cords around his own neck. Ever since Sam had asked him for his medallion, he'd separated them, but found it impossible to give one of them up. Now was the time, his gut told him that, as he put if over Sam's head, his hands sweeping down along both sides of the cord over his brother's chest, one hand resting over the medallion. "Kept me sane for a long time." A lump rose in his throat, and he knew he should pull away, get up, change the subject... stop letting his emotions assault Sam.

Sam let his hands drift up and cover Dean's. He knew how hard it was for Dean to give up the medallion, he could feel how hard it was. Dean had let his guard down a little, voluntarily or not, Sam had no idea. "Thank you," his hand moved over to Dean's neck, curving around and squeezing gently. He wished the circumstances were different - that they had found each other some other way. His hand fell back to his thigh, unsure.

"Yeah." He leaned in and gave Sam a hug, one hand patting his back. Definitely felt both natural and awkward. Yeah, not used to doing awkward, he got up and cracked a joke. "Now I feel naked. Let's eat." He was out of the room, and in the kitchen, trying to push that moment deep inside, something to ponder and think about later, not now.

Sighing Sam buttoned up his shirt. That had been about the most uncomfortable hug he'd every had. His fingers settled on the medallion when he had finished the last button. The pizza smelled good and Sam's stomach rumbled in agreement. He moved over to stand behind Dean as he was cutting up the pizza, letting his hand settle on the small of the other man's back. Obviously, things had been a lot harder for Dean when they were separated. Some things couldn't be mended. Sam knew that - he'd seen it time and time again. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the back of Dean's neck, lingered a few moments then turned and walked over to get a glass of water.

Dean's gaze followed Sam. His neck burned where Sam's lips had been. If he'd lingered there another moment, Dean would probably have turned and demanded a real kiss. Then again, he knew that wasn't what the kiss had been about. It felt like the hug he'd been trying to give, only Sam did it better.

He put the food on the coffee table, and sat down, still watching as his brother came to join him and grabbed a slice. "I was was beginning to worry you don't eat," Dean said. "Thought you might be one of those rabbit food eaters, and I don't keep that stuff around." Somehow his imagination took him to a place where they ate pizza, drank, and watched sports. It made him ache on the inside. "Do you think..." he licked his lips. "If... if it hadn't happened the way it did, do you think we'd have stayed close? I mean I'd still have gone off to Space Corps and you to Tel Unit."

Sam blinked then chewed his mouthful of pizza slowly. He swallowed and looked over at Dean's profile. "Yeah, I do." Nodding firmly, he took another bite of pizza. Dean was hurting - and Sam wasn't even sure if the man knew that's what it was; he was an expert at so many things but his own feelings seemed a bit of a mystery to him. "I think that's why it was so hard, well, for me," he added, "the bond was never broken. I was so young I didn't have such a clear memory of everything - so I've just lived with this.. weird feeling - like something was missing." That was the thing about the human mind - it wasn't always easy to tell what was missing. "I think that's why your...our Dad sent me..." He finished off the piece of pizza he was holding and grabbed another one.

Finding it a little hard to swallow, Dean chewed the hell out of the bite he'd taken. Sam meant 'too close'... that they hadn't been, but would have eventually. No matter what? It still made Dean uncomfortable to think he'd have started a relationship with his brother, and yet the pull now was so damned strong that he wondered if the adults in his life saw clearer. Still, they'd had no right to do that... take Sam on a permanent basis. He wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand, then reached for his beer. "I could never see your face. I just knew you were there." He took a long swig of the beer, then rested the bottle on his thigh. "I don't get why mom never stepped up. She never lied to me, you know? When I asked her about things I thought I remembered, before they were wiped I guess. She just... wouldn't agree or deny anything."

Sam nodded slowly, "maybe she thought the same as Dad. I mean, maybe it was confusing to them..." He didn't really have a clue. Sam couldn't think of many reasons for tearing one child from another kicking and screaming. It would have broken his heart. It had broken his heart. "I don't work with kids myself, always get sent to deal with hard-asses like you," he smiled at Dean then looked away again, "but I think parents do what they think is right at the time... they have no manual, they just do what they can."

"You're very forgiving." Dean knew he'd never let it go, not ever. "Hard-ass, huh? Don't think anyone's ever called me that before," he stated the obvious lie with a grin, as he grabbed more pizza. He was done with the touchy feely moment, for good he hoped.

Smiling sadly, Sam finished up his pizza. It had always been easier to forgive his parents before he knew what he had lost.

* * *

Sam occupied himself with Dean's books while his brother worked on his share of the reporting. It was strange spending so much time together in such silence. Actually, it was just damn strange to be spending so much time with anyone. Despite the fact that being a Tel was quite an accepted thing - Sam hadn't found a lot of people who could truly accept the fact that he might be able to read their emotions. He had nothing to compare it to, but he imagined it would make people nervous; in Sam's experience people tended to hide a lot. That was one of the reasons Sam kind of put himself out there, more of a heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy. One of the drawbacks at the Tel academy had been the constant exposure to others who could read his mind, his thoughts, everything. Nothing was private there - so Sam gave up trying.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed to be the exact opposite. Sure, there were times when Dean had let Sam in, let him feel things, but it was usually when he was distracted, worried or sleeping. As far as Sam was concerned, that wasn't the most healthy way to deal with what he'd been through; but he didn't think he'd offer Dean that advice.

Sam was lost in thought, sprawled on Dean's couch when his brother finally finished up with his work.

It wasn't that late, not even midnight yet. Dean was rarely ready to sleep this early but he was tired. Mentally more than physically, that much he realized. Stretching, he kind of grinned at the sight of Sam making himself at home on his couch. It was a strange sight, even if it hadn't been his brother, he just didn't often have friends over that felt that comfortable. "You know you could have watched a movie, noise wouldn't have bothered me. You still can, though my collection is mostly classic earth... twentieth century." That would probably entice a yawn out of Sam.

"Still can?" Sam squinted at the time on his wrist band. "Aren't you tired? You're a vampire aren't you?" He laughed softly and rolled over to face the back of the couch, burrowing in to the cushions.

"Usually. Kinda tired today but it probably means I'll be up in few hours," he shrugged. "You look beat too, you wanna call it a night?" In that instant, he remembered struggling to carry his brother to bed when they were young, and getting yelled at for picking him up, not that it ever stopped him. Rubbing his temple, he got up.

"You can tell me when you remember things ... I mean if you want." Sam sat up and ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I can tell sometimes, when you remember things but I can't actually see or feel it. I don't have many of my own memories so if you ever feel like talking about them."

He pushed up from the couch and wandered around a bit, stretching out his tired muscles. "Where... should I sleep?" Sam was far beyond the point where he would make any assumptions about Dean.

Dean was surprised, on both counts. "Bed. I've showered," he gave Sam a look, trying to be flip. As they walked the short distant to the room, and he started to undress, he sat on the edge of the bed. "It was... just a flash. I remember carrying you and getting in trouble because you were too heavy for me, and I mighta dropped you." He chuckled. "I don't think it stopped me. "I was carrying you to bed." Yeah, like there wasn't layers of innuendo in that. He glanced over at Sam.

Sam folded his arms across his chest, "you wouldn't have dropped me." His mouth twitched into a smile. Shaking his arms out, Sam unbuttoned the top buttons and then tugged his shirt up and off. He ran his hands over his chest, prodding gently, "all good." He flashed a grin at his brother and undid his pants, tugging them off then crawled over Dean deliberately, chuckling. "Don't want to get on your side of the bed."

Dean looked down into his own lap, then looked at Sam. "Keep playing with fire." His warning tone was light as he undressed more slowly.

Sam flopped down on the bed, smiling, turning onto his side to watch Dean undress. "So - tomorrow - we'll talk about me going back to the pit?"

"You're not gonna let it rest, are you?" Getting up, he pulled the sheets open and got inside, lowering the lights. "Why are you so pumped to do this?" He rolled over and found himself face to face with Sam.

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips. "I just wanna do my job," he murmured, eyes locked on Dean's. I want to make sure you're safe. "Tomorrow?" He leaned closer and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth, cheek rasping across his brother's as he shifted his body nearer. Heat was radiating off Dean's body, "you feel really warm," he breathed against his brother's ear. Pulling back he kissed Dean on the cheek softly, barely touching. As Sam's eyes slipped closed he let his hand rest on Dean's chest, index finger pressing the medallion against the man's chest briefly.

Dean hardly took a breath, feeling coursing through him each time Sam touched him. "You're not gonna let this rest either, are you?" he asked thickly, mouth aching to feel Sam's lips on him again.

Letting himself fall back onto the bed, Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth briefly then opened his eyes again. "I can handle whatever you want. You want to try and go back to being my brother - I'm okay with that. You want more - I'm okay with that too. The only thing I'm not okay with is.. nothing." Reaching out he ran his hand over Dean's hair. "Guess you'll have to decide what you want."

"So you have no preference, its whatever I want? Very accommodating of you." He wished he knew what he wanted. Maybe he wanted it all, but he couldn't handle it. "Good night, Sammy." He leaned over, kissed his cheek, then slid his mouth over Sam's, closing his eyes as he kissed him again, this time for real. When he withdrew his tongue and dropped back down onto his pillow, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry... I have no words for how that makes me feel."

"S'okay," Sam scooted forward so his body was pressed up against Dean's side, hand resting across his brother's heart. Sleep was easy when he was near Dean.

Dean smiled. This was perfect, because he knew his brother was right here with him, and if he moved away, he'd know that too. Nothing could take him, nothing could try... and until now, he hadn't known how comforting that could be. He let his eyes close, listening for sounds until his mind blanked out.

* * *

He thought he was dreaming because there were hands sliding down his side, fingers dipping just under the waist band of his pants. Sam moaned softly, shifting, rolling back towards the touch. Sometimes, dreams were really good. He bumped into something warm, and opened one eye, peering over his shoulder at Dean's face. The hand kept moving, sliding over Sam's body as he rolled settling on his abs, massaging gently then slipping below his pants. "I thought I was dreaming," Sam's voice was morning-rough and low.

"You are dreaming," Dean murmured against the side of Sam's throat, drawing in his scent as he rubbed his palm over Sam's morning wood. "Shared dream... go back to sleep," he said, thrusting lightly against Sam's firm ass, grinding his own arousal against him. He moved his mouth to Sam's jaw, then over his ear and back. "You're giving me these dreams... so hot... so fucking hot."

Chuckling softly Sam's hips rolled forward into the pressure from Dean's hand. Reaching back he grabbed Dean's ass, digging his fingers in and tugging him closer. "That feels pretty real...not like a dream." Sam pressed his head down into the pillow stretching his neck out, inviting Dean to explore it with his mouth. Fuck, he'd never be able to kiss anyone else after this. He ground his ass back against the hard line in Dean's shorts. "The dreams... not my doing..." he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard.

"Don't believe you... I never had good dreams before," Dean whispered, moving over the corner of Sam's mouth and teasing him, kissing, licking, just penetrating that one spot and ignoring the rest of his too tempting mouth. He sensed the build up of Sam's frustration, loved it... it made him harder, made him slide his cock up and down the cleft of Sam's ass, needing relief.

Sam's body shuddered as his breath shot out of his lungs. His mouth ached for Dean's lips, and he chased his brother's mouth, groaning softly when it was always just out of reach. He was so hard, hips moving rhythmically, pressing his cock into the rough palm the was covering it. With each roll of his hips he could feel Dean's shaft sliding against his ass, teasing, sending warmth racing through his veins. His fingers slipped off the other man's ass and caught on his hip, digging in, hard enough to bruise he was sure. "Dean... " the muscles of Sam's ass tightened, his head falling back, "now who's ... playing with fire."

"You're the one who lit it," he answered, groaning as his cock was trapped between Sam's ass cheeks. He loved this, loved how easy it was between them right here, right now. Loved the warmth of Sam's body, loved how he smelled, how he tasted. Both familiar, and exotic... because this... this right here, it wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced. He'd never wanted so much to just... play. That's what this felt like, and it was freeing somehow.

"Gimme your mouth." When Sam turned, Dean kissed the corner again, chuckling. "Maybe I'm obsessed with just this one spot," he suggested, his fingers finally curling around Sam's hard length, stroking up and down as he ground his own cock into Sam's ass.

The corners of Sam's mouth tugged up into a smile even as he moaned and tried to twist around to face Dean. He couldn't get very far the way he was pressed up against Dean's body, fuck it felt good. Sam's hips swung slowly side to side, ass rubbing back and forth across Dean's cock. "Yeah, I'm obsessed with one spot too." Sam pressed back, rocking his hips back and forth, moaning softly as Dean's shaft slid up and down against his ass. Sam's tongue darted out, sweeping quickly across Dean's bottom lip.

A laugh broke out of Dean, one that surprised him. "This spot, huh?" He thrust a little harder, catching Sam's tongue and sucking it into his mouth, tangling it with his, then pulling away. "Funny, I think it's another spot I'm obsessed with. Fuck...." he held still for a moment as an intense wave of pleasure rocked his system, then continued moving against Sam.

He wanted to kiss Sam hard, kiss him until they were both breathless. That's what every cell in his body was telling him... kiss, fuck against him, come... But Dean liked this, was afraid they'd lose it the minute they were done, so he kept it light, teasing, stoking up their need but not giving either of them satisfaction just yet.

"Dean...." Sam's voice was more like a groan than anything else. "C'mon," he tried to tug Dean closer. Frustrated, he pulled his hand back and shifted, fingers curling over his waistband and pulling his shorts down. He hissed out a breath as the heat from Dean's rock hard shaft burned into his ass. "You... should..." He writhed against Dean's body, overwhelmed with the desire that flowed through both their bodies. "Do something... with..." he snapped his hips back, pushing his ass hard into Dean's erection, "that."

"You having control issues?" Dean practically drawled, giving Sam's cock some extra pressure, squeezing him and stroking him. He played with the head, circling his crown with his thumb, finding his slit and fucking it with the side of his thumb. Leaning closer, he caught Sam's groans with his mouth, sucking his lower lip, playing with his tongue outside his mouth. "Like it slow in the morning... with you," he muttered, even as his lust rose. No, that was Sam's lust he was feeling, it was happening again. He didn't know whether to complain or just... just enjoy it, even if he was getting desperate for more at a quicker pace than he'd wanted.

Sam's lips parted, air racing in and out of his lungs. He wanted Dean, wanted the man inside him, pressed up against him, he wanted to feel rough palms all over his burning flesh. "S..slow," Sam echoed, his back curving away from Dean's touch briefly as waves of lust tore through him.

Exerting the last shreds of his iron will, Dean kept them in that position for longer than his own body should be able to take when it was under assault by Sam's feelings as well. He kissed and teased, and touched Sam, and fucked harder and harder up against his ass, until his cock ached so much groans were leaving him with every breath. Moving suddenly, he pulled Sam back and rolled on top of him, his mouth unerringly coming down hard over his brother's, no more teasing, no more time for playing, his tongue invading the heat of Sam's mouth, sliding right into a tongue fucking as he rode Sam's body, his cock pressing into Sam's hip, and Sam's dick trapped between their bodies.

Barely able to breathe, Sam's entire body felt like it was prickling with electricity. He moaned into Dean's mouth, sucking the other man's tongue deep inside, loving the slick slide of it. His hands grabbed at Dean's hair, pulling tight, hips rocking up against his brother. Shifting back, he gazed into his brother's eyes, tongue darting out to sweep along the curve of his brother's mouth.

Responding to the pressure of Sam's tongue, Dean opened for him, moaning his name as he felt Sam's exploration of his mouth. He'd never been so aware of anyone, not a soul. Right now, it was almost as if Sam was an extension of himself. He knew exactly where Sam needed to be touched, and giving in, he allowed himself to be swallowed up by emotions. His hands searched over Sam's body, calloused palms stroking over his chest, his abs. Fingers biting into his sides, thumbs pressing into his stomach, moving lower, brushing over his cock, groaning when Sam arched up into his palm.

He was fucking burning up, and he was gonna take his brother with him. Pushing his hand under Sam's ass, squeezing him once, he rolled them over so Sam was on top. One arm stretched out to the nightstand, he searched blindly, his hand finally closing around the tube. Even as Sam kissed the hell out of him, drove him crazy by rocking against him, Dean managed to open the tube behind Sam's back, lost the cap, and started to pour the lube along Sam's crack.

Sam could easily get used to having Dean's body under him. His eyes roamed over the muscles and lines of Dean's chest and he smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Wow, Dean... you're ... " he circled his hips against Dean's hard cock and let his head fall back, "in a bad position..." Sam's body shuddered and he fell forward diving for Dean's neck and biting hard, his lips and tongue worked their way down, along his brother's collar bone. Sam's hips never stopped moving, sliding side to side, he slid the crack of his ass up and down Dean's cock and moaned when he felt the lust pour out of Dean's body.

Bad? Bad was good when it was Sam writhing over him like that. Holy hell, Dean's entire body clenched with need, every muscle tensing, hormones raging out of control, demanding he take Sam now, right now.

Pushing himself up Sam arched his back, one hand sliding down his side, over his thigh and grabbing his thick shaft. "Fuck... do you ... feel that....?" The way their emotions played off each others, like a feedback loop, the lust, desire, want, it all just kept building to a fever pitch in Sam's body. His fingers curled around Dean's cock moving slowly up and down, his ass still sliding against his brother's dick. Sam moaned, fingers slipping over the weeping crown of his cock then back to the base.

"Ungh..." Dean practically arched off the bed as Sam dragged his ass over his cock, teasing him with his lube-slicked entrance, then pumping him with his hand. "Feel it... yeah. Fuck..." He gripped Sam's hips, fingers biting into his brother's flesh. "You make it hard... hard to go slow," he ground out, lifting his hips. "Take me inside," he demanded, positioning Sam's body but allowing his brother to take care of aligning him. As his weeping cock brushed Sam's entrance again, he threw his head back and bit his lip. It was so hot.. so fucking intense, this thing that burned uncontrollably between them.

Sam kneeled, letting the head of Dean's cock barely brush across his tight ring of muscle. Thighs shaking with the strain of delaying the pleasure he moaned, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. He'd never felt anything like it; his blood was running so hot in his veins he felt like his heart would split right through his chest. Sinking his body down just slightly, fingers curled into his own muscular thighs. Just the very tip of Dean's cock nudged inside Sam's body and he groaned, his legs shuddered and he sat back hard; taking all Dean had to offer at once. A low cry burst out of him, his fingers strained against his flesh.

"Fuck!" Dean's shout was a mixture of pleasure and distress at having impaled Sam like that. Eyes wide, hands on Sam's hips, trying to prevent him from moving, his entire body tense, stomach muscles rippling with the strain of holding back, of stopping himself from bucking up. "You're.... you're fucking nuts," he finally managed in a shaky voice, searching Sam's face for signs of pain.

Sam blew out a breath through his lips, tongue darting out to wet them. He pushed his damp hair off his forehead and smiled out from under his lashes as he leaned forward, gently, ever-so-slowly letting Dean's cock slide out of him. "I can..." he kneeled forward until just the head of his brother's cock was left inside him, "stop if you want." Sam's lashes fluttered closed, his body trembling as his lips twitched into a smile. He ached, it hurt but it felt better than anything ever had.

Watching Sam closely, gritting his teeth at the throbbing of his cock just barely inside Sam, Dean almost looked predatory as thoughts of reversing their positions and fucking the hell out of Sam, of satisfying that escalating need for release, tortured him. If this weren't his brother... "Bastard," he finally managed, saying the word in the sweetest way possible. "Slow...for me," he said, pulling him down, hardly moving his own hips though it was fucking killing him. God... Sam was so tight around him, so fucking tight... but it wasn't that... it was the eye contact between them that was intensifying things.

Sam's eyes locked with Dean's eyes, the green of his brother's irises almost gone, almost black with the desire they were both feeling. Smiling, Sam canted his hips slightly forward, then back, Dean's cock barely moving inside him but filling him, fuck so full, so good. He settled his hands on Dean's stomach, his fingers splayed across his brother's sweating skin. He swayed side to side, his spine arching and curving until he managed to graze Dean's cock over the bundle of nerves deep inside his own body. He wasn't sure what sound he made, it didn't even seem like it came from his mouth but he rocked forward, fingers digging hard into Dean's stomach muscles. "Dean... move...." he growled, head falling back.

"Can't believe we have this argument every time," Dean answered slowly raising his hips to punctuate each of his words. He felt Sam squirming... searching, knew what he wanted and how to give it to him. Sliding his hands up Sam's sides, he pulled him slightly forward, then jerked his hips up, biting his lower lip at the sensations from Sam clenching hard around him. Yeah... he'd found the place. Nodding, he started to move, stroking up into Sam's body, short hard thrusts alternating with longer, deeper ones, always aiming to graze his gland, always catching Sam's every expression.

Once they found a rhythm, the otherwise silent room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and moans of pleasure. "Oh yeah... again," Dean demanded, loving the way Sam rode him side to side at times, "oh Fuck... so good..." Dean's movements became wilder, his stomach contracting with the strain of lifting, bucking his hips up, burying his hard flesh deep inside Sam, over and over. "Kiss me," he demanded, his hand sliding up Sam's back to force him down within reach.

Sam fell easily against Dean's body, mouth crashing into his brother's like his life depended on it. His lips were swollen, aching, his tongue fucking past Dean's lips- tasting him, sweeping over every part of his mouth, sucking, licking. The entire time Sam's lips and tongue moved over his brother's his hips never stopped rocking, sliding, snapping forwards. Each time Dean thrust hard into him, Sam's breath caught in his chest, his muscles jerking and trembling. Sam's long fingers curled over Dean's shoulders, pulling himself off his brothers throbbing cock then waiting for Dean to thrust back into him. He could feel his orgasm starting to snake through his belly, uncoiling, warming his flesh, his balls aching with the need to release.

Sam's raw, hungry kisses set Dean on fire. He couldn't get enough of his brother's taste, of his feel, couldn't be deep enough inside him. His entire body raged with need, desire so strong it wouldn't be denied. Closing his arms around Sam, he reversed their positions, kissing him hard as he lowered his weight over his brother. Both hands under Sam's ass, he started to drive into him, faster, deeper, his breaths growing more labored, more ragged. "Sam... Sammy... come... come with me," he begged as the first tremors of pleasure started to hit him.

Wrapping his arms around Dean, Sam tugged him close, thrusting up against his brother. His cock was throbbing as waves of pleasure ran through his body with his brother's every thrust. He cried out, his voice swallowed up by Dean's mouth. His orgasm shot through his body, his muscles tensed, and his cock pulsed hot and thick between them. Writhing under Dean's body, Sam fell apart, drowning in desire, need, and the pleasure winding through both of their bodies.

"Yeah... oh yeah," Dean's hands roved over Sam's body, gripping, sliding across Sam's belly, brushing his cock as they both came hard, almost violently. He was shaking slightly, holding tight, his mouth still working over Sam's, needing the connection, the validation that this ... this had been real, that it wasn't only his world that had been tilted but his brother's too.

As peace slowly settled inside him, Dean eased out of Sam, but stayed with him. "Never had mind shattering sex before. Is it a Tel thing?" he asked, his breath hot against Sam's ear.

Sam ran his open mouth over Dean's hair, his temple, "never happened to me like that before." Slipping his hands down his brother's back he slipped them over the curves of his ass, "it's a ... you and me thing, apparently." He laughed softly.

"A 'you and me thing'..." He raised his brows and dropped them, in acknowledgment, clenching his ass as his brother's hand skimmed over him. "Well if we harnessed it, it would make a damned good weapon. Never mind, old Space Corps joke," he grinned. "I slept, you know? Six hours. Haven't done that in like... forever."

"Good to know I can wear you out ... must be the age difference." Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck, licking the sweat off his brother's skin in long, slow strokes of his tongue.

"Yeah, must be it." Dipping his head down, he licked Sam's tongue, then sucked it into his mouth for another long, heated kiss. By the time he broke it, he was out of breath. Rolling off Sam, he stayed close, one hand possessively thrown over his waist. "Or you could just be... draining, like any little brother. Just a thought."

Groaning, Sam rolled over to face Dean, fingers tangling in the cord holding his brother's medallion. "Stop talkin'. I need to sleep." He mouthed his way down Dean's chest, sucking his brother's skin hard and leaving a bruise. Closing his eyes he kissed the bruise. Mine.

Dean understood the gesture. It startled him, but didn't bother him. "Sleep Sam." His eyes stayed wide open as he watched his brother go to sleep, the way he had for so many years. His own fingers curled around the medallion his brother was wearing, his finger rubbing over the familiar raised image of St. Anthony. He didn't miss it as much as he thought he would, it was where it belonged now. Right where it belonged.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major thanks to the talented and lovely stawberynvanila who made this banner for us.

Sam was determined to get to the pit alone and see what he could feel. Dean seemed equally determined to be there - _right_ there - by Sam's side when he went anywhere near the pit. Eventually they managed to stop butting heads long enough to agree to try several things, to decrease Sam's exposure to Dean briefly and see how it went. The problem was - Sam's connection to Dean was too strong. The short explanation was that Dean distracted him. There was a constant flow between them - well - Sam had no idea if it worked both ways and felt it prudent not to ask. Dean was a little touchy about the whole mind/feelings thing. Sam needed time to learn how to filter Dean out of his mind - but time was one thing he didn't feel they had.

On their second attempt, Dean moved further back reluctantly. He was crouched near the end of the path, gun trained in the general direction of _anything_ that might come at Sam. It was better - Sam managed to almost filter Dean out - and had the vaguest notion that he could feel something... down below ... something strong. But, it wasn't working. Sam had ended that attempt by striding past Dean in a huff and throwing his arms up into the air. Even as serious as things were he found himself fighting off a smile as he heard Dean chuckling behind him.

They'd fallen into the strangest agreement of sorts. While they were working, they behaved as co-workers, brothers - it was good, efficient. Even Dean had to acknowledge after a while that their closeness contributed to a smoothness between them particularly when they were in defense mode,he rarely had to speak to Sam to get the man to move in the right direction or duck out of sight. It just happened.

The nights that fell in between their attempts at communication with the _entity_ were very different. It was like they crossed an invisible barrier when they passed into Dean's quarters. Sam wanted to touch Dean, slide his hands over the man's warm flesh, press his lips against the back of his neck where the soft curls of his hair fell. Dean would shove Sam up against the wall, crashing their mouths together - kissing Sam until neither of them could breathe. The sex was rough, hard, needy and neither man was sure where his thoughts ended and the other's began.

It took a while for Sam to finally convince Dean to stay far enough away from him outside. It took a lot of talking, some raised voices, a slightly charged conversation and a reluctant agreement. But Sam found himself walking slowly towards the pit, alone, open and hoping for some sort of contact. He glanced nervously over his shoulder to glance back at Dean who was lying on top of a security vehicle with his gun trained just in front of Sam. Taking a deep breath Sam walked over to the edge of the pit and sat cross-legged; he opened his mind and waited. He could still sense Dean, just on the periphery of his mind.

As minutes ticked by, Dean had to struggle to check his emotions. It was frustrating to have to fight for control, when control ordinarily came second nature to him. After the last few days, he did trust Sam on the field. If their enemy weren't an unknown quantity like this, if it weren't an all powerful force that attacked from all angles, he wouldn't hover, wouldn't watch him like a hawk. But this thing... whatever it was, it had taken every single other person out. Between that, and the emotional bonds that had grown between them, he was finding it hard to do his job as efficiently as he ordinarily would.

Laying on his stomach, his finger grazing the trigger, he was prepared to blow up anything that came at Sam. He'd selected a new weapon, one that would have blown that tree trunk to hell if he'd had it with him that day. Since then, they'd been hit with an earthquake, and they'd caught sight of more of the mysterious vine, but that was it. Still... somehow it all came down to that pit.

Watching Sam commune with whatever, he hoped his brother made the connection and got this the hell over with. One chance. Today or never was what he'd told him, though deep down, he knew if additional tries were necessary, they'd probably be right here again. 

As Sam got too close to the edge of the pit, Dean grit his teeth. Just then, his communications device went off, announcing softly that his prerecorded requests for aid and reports were being transmitted off planet, that whatever was jamming the transmissions was gone. He looked more carefully through the scope on his rifle , sensing that something must have changed.

There was so much inside Sam's head, it happened suddenly, a flood of sensation. His body jolted back a little and he fell down onto his elbow. Knowing that Dean was watching, Sam wrestled with his pain long enough to hold up his hand behind him, let Dean know he was alright. His fingers curled into his palm as his hand fell back to his side; he let himself down onto the ground, cheek pressed against the earth. _Curiosity_ \- it was back - needing to understand them but there was something else. The pain slid back into Sam's mind, like razor sharp fingers, slicing through him.

Dean's head jerked upward. He gave Sam ten seconds to get up, thinking even as he gave them that it might be ten seconds too much. Then he rolled off the truck and swung into the driver's seat, gunning it as he drove across the greens, eyes scanning, searching for activity, but always returning to the prone figure. His heart pounded, his mind fighting off thoughts that Sam's mind might be shattering, or that he'd been injured in some other way that Dean couldn't see. Hitting the brakes, he left the truck's engine running.

Time slowed as his long strides ate up the distance between them, then sped up as he dropped on his knees next to his brother and shook him. "Sam... Sam..." he saw the blood coming from his nostrils and knew right there, he had to get him to the lab. "Come on, I gotcha," he said, starting to pick him up, when the earth started to rumble. The ground under him crumbled, his legs fell into a now widened pit. "Move... move back, Sam," he ordered, trying to climb out when thick, strong vines started to wrap around his legs. 

Dean tried to kick, to get them off. Reaching one hand out, he got his weapon, got off a round that destroyed more of the pit but he couldn't aim, not with the force he was fighting to stay out of the damned pit. "Sam, go!"

There was so much in Sam's mind but Dean was always there, like part of his spine - holding him up, keeping things together. _Anger_ , why didn't it understand them? Sam's eyes were squeezed shut when he heard Dean's cries, ordering him - calling him. It was still there, a huge presence and Sam fought through the fog in his head, rolling up off the ground and prying his eyes open. Dean. _Dean_.

Sam's eyes came into focus on Dean's face, the determination touched with fear as his fist grasped for a solid hold on the loose ground. "Dean..." Sam struggled to roll over and reached out for his brother. "Dean?" His voice hurt from how loud he was yelling; not even sure if he was yelling over sounds or thoughts. It was trying to kill Dean. He could feel the animosity. _We did nothing_. Sam's thoughts and feelings were radiating out from him. Long arms stretching out - he tried to get to his brother.

He managed to reach Dean's shoulder, grasping the materials of his shirt and a sharp tug pulled them both forward. Dirt pushed up against Sam's face and he coughed and spat it out his grip on Dean failing. "Dean," he yelled, coughing again. "Noooo," _not my brother, not again, don't take him,_." Tears were streaming down Sam's face, his heart being tugged away with every inch his brother was pulled away from him. Sam couldn't live through that again, he was flooded with images as he crawled toward Dean, his fingers snagging on Dean's medallion. 

"Sam... go... Sam... GO," Dean shouted, fighting to scramble up, but wanting his brother safe. He'd seen his face, he knew his pain, it brought that day on the docks front and center in his mind, but he forced those thoughts back. This was here and now. This was life or death. "Lab.. meet you," he said, his mouth suddenly covered by dirt and the vine starting to strangle him around his neck and shoulder. 

The dream swept through Sam's mind as Dean slipped through his fingers, leaving him clutching the medallion. In a last ditch effort to reach the entity Sam opened his mind completely, dropped all his guards; they'd been taught never to do that, never to over load their minds that way. But this was his brother. The dream was there... everywhere...the memory of the pain of being torn from his brother...they were so young...

_Tears were streaming from Sam's eyes and he couldn't see right, couldn't see where to reach. "Dean... stop them... Dean." He was sobbing even though he knew Dean would call him a girl later. Kicking his feet as hard as he could did nothing, all that happened was he shoe flew off and clattered along the dock. They're taking me. "Yours Dean - you said... don't..." Sam's small voice was choked off by a sob, his fingers finally connecting with Dean's. He gripped tight to his brother's hand, "taking me, Dean, don't let them - yours..."_

Sobbing, clutching Dean's medallion and clawing slowly with his other hands, Sam's movements slowed, then stilled and darkness fell over him.

Just as Dean was blacking out under the tremendous weight of the soil surrounding him, he felt like a some sort of spring under his feet propelled him up out of the earth, spat him out. He landed hard on his side, cursing ferociously, even as he scrambled to wipe the dirt off his eyes and looked for his brother. "Sam... Sammy?"

He saw him laying near the edge of the pit and quickly got to him. He didn't even try to bring him out of his faint, instead shoving his arms under Sam's knees and back, gritting his teeth and lifting him with all of his strength. By the time he stuffed him into the truck, he'd decided that while the lab would block anything trying to come at Sam's mind, it was too dangerous. If that thing changed its mind, it could set the chemicals in and around the place on fire. Admin was more secure, he'd been working on it for days.

Shifting the gears, he took off, zig zagging across the greens until he reached the building. Within minutes, he had his brother in his arms again, and was striding down the long halls, a little clumsily hitting the wall now and again, but he was damned if he was going to let Sam drop. Not for anything, not even here in the hall.

Once they were inside his unit, Dean slowly lowered Sam to the sofa and dropped down on his knees next to him. "Talk to me please." He knew he should move away, that his emotions would wreak havoc with Sam's, but he couldn't. "Please... tell me you're okay."

Sam's fingers curled tighter, his fist clenched. "Dean..." Dean was worried, sad, scared ... it was like the same dream all over again. As he opened his eyes he reached up and rubbed them, "Dean... you okay?" He struggled to sit up, his movements picking up speed as he realized what had happened. Swinging around wildly he flung out his arms and grabbed Dean, pulling him up against his chest. "I thought..." he gasped in a breath and coughed, then buried his face in Dean's neck.

"Sam I'm dirty..." he gave a raw laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement as he found himself in a bear hug. Putting his own arm around Sam, he took a deep breath, trying like hell not to mentally go where he was sure Sam was going. "It spit me out. Looks like you're the only one who thinks I taste good," he joked. "I'm okay... I'm alright Sam, I'm right here." He ran his hand down the side of Sam's face, his middle finger coming back to and resting against his temple, massaging lightly. 

Wiping his tattered shirt sleeve over his face, trying to get rid of the dirt that was in his eyes Sam realized he was still holding something. He opened his fist and closed it quickly, eyeing Dean and smiling. "Were you hurt?" He tried to distract Dean, and slid his hand down to hide it beside his leg.

"Might have a beauty of a bruise or two. You?" He continued rubbing Sam's temple. "Did that vine thing come after you? Or was it just after your mind?" 

Sam blinked a few times as his thoughts sorted themselves out. "Dean ... it wasn't... we're hurting it somehow. We need to check back through the logs. see what was happening when the first person was taken? We need to find out what we were doing to ... _it_." He noted his brother's skeptical expression. "Dean, you'll just have to trust me, we caused this somehow with our work, with our... research...somehow. _That's_ the connection we need to figure out." Sam sucked in a deep breath and reached out to grab Dean's shirt. "It gave you back..." He closed his eyes, seeking the entity where it was ... so far away. "It gave you back because of what happened to us...when we were kids...." 

"That's bull. Sam, this thing killed everyone. _Everyone._ You really think it gives a fuck what happened... back then. Only one's who care about that is you, and me, and that's it." It was unreasonable, but he didn't want to share that pain with anyone else, he couldn't even explain why he resented the idea of anyone else knowing... caring. "I'll think on what you said, get the logs... but you're not going out there again. How many more attacks can you take?" Not that Sam couldn't be attacked right here in his unit. Maybe once Sam went to sleep, Dean would go to the lab, bring back some of the equipment that could help block out brain wave type activity.

Sam was frustrated. He stood, pushing past Dean and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Dean, you're missing the point. It _wasn't_ attacking me, it was _defending_ something...itself... its...I don't know. I need more time with it. I was just getting a connection and you came over and ...it was threatened..." he shook his head. "I don't know...I just know we need to check the logs and I need to go back."

"I was coming over... it was threatened. I don't fucking believe this," Dean got up and pointed at Sam. "You were on the ground, and I waited for you to get up. You couldn't... and if that's not a classic attack, I don't know what is. That sonovabitch laid you out, so don't try to whitewash it or protect it or... "

"Enough!" Sam yelled. "Dean, just trust me on this, okay?" He yanked his hands out of his pockets and rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry... I..." he stepped back closer to Dean. "I'm tired and dirty ... come to think of it, all I can taste is _dirt_. I just...we can't keep fighting about everything Dean. What happened to us?" He reached out to touch Dean's cheek.

Dean pulled away. "You make dinner, I'm grabbing a shower." Giving him a look, he walked away. If it had been anyone other than Sam raising his voice, he'd have just... yeah, it was best that he walk away right now. There was no fucking need to keep bringing the past up either, and he was not in the mood to have a heart to heart. One or both of them had almost died and he for one was not ready to sit with the damned thing and sing kumbaya with it.

Sam washed his hands and set about making something for them to eat. He pulled out the food packages and managed to mix some things together and come up with something that looked edible and actually didn't taste that bad. He was still trying to yank some clean clothes out of his bag when Dean finally came out of the shower. "My turn now?" he asked without looking up.

Dean nodded and went to the fridge, reaching for a beer. He'd just discovered his medallion was gone and it was bothering him maybe more than he should. He opened his beer, knocked some back, and leaned against the counter as he looked to see what Sam had cooked up. "I don't know," he said eventually, turning. "I don't know what happened to us."

"S'okay, Dean, eat your dinner." He smiled as he stood, "gonna have a shower." Slipping out of the room quickly Sam stripped and got in the shower. They were both over tired, stressed out - and _Jesus_ everything they thought they had known about their lives was wrong... or at least, based on lies. He showered quickly, dressed in his clean clothes and, grinning, slipped Dean's medallion over his head where it settled against his own.

When he walked back into the room, Dean was still standing in the kitchen although he _was_ eating. Sam offered him a smile and grabbed a bowl, spooning some dinner up for himself. "Is it okay?"

"It's fine," he gave a nod, really to fill his stomach more than for enjoyment. Having Sam torn from him ... from his arms again...mowas affecting him more than he wanted, more then he cared to admit. He needed to stop thinking, it was gonna screw both of them up. Sam would feel it, then he'd dig...

"I got something to do after I eat. You gonna be okay for a couple hours?"

"You okay?" Sam asked between bites of food. He _knew_ Dean wasn't okay - but he'd be _damned_ if he was going to suggest it that they talk it over.

"Yeah, great." He scraped the bottom of his plate and took a last bite. Once he swallowed, he asked a question which was likely to get him yelled at. "Take something? For the headache."

"I'll take something ... okay. I'll be here... I'll check the logs." He smiled and walked over to sit down on the couch with his dinner.

Dean gave a grunt that served for agreement, then grabbed his duffel bag and walked out. The farther he got, the freer he felt to think about those few minutes when they'd been grabbing each other and forces beyond either one's control had forced them to separate. His dad's face flashed before his eyes. His brother's shoe. His hand went to his chest, now bare of his medallion, and he took a deep breath.

He started to jog, got all the way to the exit and opened up the shutters. He was half way out the door when he saw that the truck was in a fucking ditch now. "Fuck..." Pure hatred for that thing roiled off Dean in waves. Stepping back in, he secured the premises, and headed for the bar on the other level he'd cleared.

He stayed in the depressingly empty bar for a little over an hour, nursing a whiskey but not sucking down too much, just enough to take the edge off. He had music playing too, that helped. And he just sat there, literally forcing calm over his system, and not moving until he did just that.

When he got back, Dean had the bottle of whiskey with him. He expected to find the lights off and Sam in bed. Instead, his brother was still on the sofa, looking back at him. He lifted the bottle. "Want some?" He pretended not to notice the worry etched in Sam's face. 

"No thanks," Sam shifted slowly and stood, "I'm tired, you coming to bed or are you gonna drink yourself unconscious?"

"Not drunk." He set the bottle down on the counter and watched Sam get up. "Something I forgot to tell you. Good news. While you were communing with our resident demon... it stopped blocking transmissions. Got a couple off, which means help should be on the way."

"That's great," Sam scratched his arm, "good, I hope I can get this thing figured out before anyone else gets here." He took a couple of steps closer to Dean and reached out, curling his hand around the side of Dean's neck. "You staying up? I can stay up with you if you want?"

He finally met Sam's gaze, a little undecided at first. "Nah, I'm coming." Why was it when they stood close, there was always some emotion... charged as hell... going between them. Whether it had to do with sex, or the past, or good old fashioned anger, it was always there. Sometimes Dean couldn't even distinguish between the emotions.

Pulling away carefully, he headed for the bedroom and started getting ready for bed. He wasn't gonna allow himself to backslide... it had taken him too long to contain his thoughts. "Your _friend_ tanked the truck." Tossing his clothes on the back of a chair, he pulled the covers back and got in the bed.

"Is it hard work?" Sam was pulling his shirt off as he walked in to the bedroom behind Dean.

"Is what hard work?"

"Trying to make sure you don't get too close to me?" Sam smiled softly.

"Sometimes." He was trying to irritate him, Dean knew it. 

"Good." Sam would wear Dean down eventually. He'd faced worse. He slipped his pants off and climbed into bed, lying on his side so he could see Dean's face. "You tired?" He ran his finger down Dean's chest.

"No, not really." Heat skittered across his skin where Sam touched him. "You feeling particularly chatty?"

"If I were to suddenly hit you over the head with a pillow would it lighten you up at all?" Sam grinned and scooted a little closer.

"I thought the whiskey did that... lighten me up." He tried not to smile. He didn't want to smile. Didn't want to be teased out of his mood. Didn't want anything, but he was afraid of the look in Sam's eyes. "You should sleep."

"I think maybe next time you should try something stronger than whiskey, you know, rub all the rough edges off." Sam bit down on his bottom lip trying to stop himself from smiling. He shifted as close as he could get to Dean, pushing his leg between Dean's and resting his head on his arm.

Dean bit his lip. "That is _not_ you sleeping." His gaze swept down Sam's chiseled chest, lingered on the medallion. He frowned, and reached out with a finger, pushing the medallion to one side, to see a second one underneath. His gaze flicked up to Sam's, his hours of work reining in his emotions suddenly shot. "Can I have it back?" he asked.

Sam leaned in and kissed Dean's mouth, gently, lips barely parted then pulled back. "No," he smiled, "not yet, I'll give it to you .. someday." Sam curled his fingers around the medallions then pressed them against his chest.

He nodded, "alright." Reaching for the switch, he turned the lights off, then slanting his mouth over his brothers, he gave him an open mouthed kiss, his tongue tangling with Sam's. If the earth hadn't spit him out... if Sam's mind had been shattered... he didn't even wanna go there as he stroked the side of Sam's face, memorizing every angle, and moving to his throat. "Goodnight Sammy."

Sam curled up against Dean's chest, making himself surprisingly small for someone so tall. "Night, Dean," he murmured, lips moving softly on his brother's warm chest, "don't worry - it won't happen again - we won't be torn apart twice." He nuzzled closer, inhaling the scent of his brother's skin.

Dean gave a noncommittal grunt, but pulled him closer. This morning, he'd have agreed. Then they'd been shown differently. He didn't know if he could live through something like that again, even if he didn't know Sam... this Sam as well as he had his young brother. The lines were blurring... merging. Whether he liked it or not.

"You need to do well on your exams."

"I know, dad," Dean said, without turning around. His books were spread out on his desk, and he was writing in his notebook.

"That means no playing. At all, until finals are over."

"Yes Sir."

"Don't let Sam distract you. This is important."

Dean didn't answer, but heard the door close. He grinned. "You can come out now." 

Sammy scrambled out from under his bed. "I'm ready to do my homework." He sat on the other chair and waited for Dean to make some dot to dots for him, and crawled half on the desk to watch. "It's a gun. You always make guns. Make a boat. I know what it is..."

"So impatient," Dean smirked. "Wrong... wrong..."

Then Sam was being dragged out of his arms at the docks. "No.... No... you can't have him, can't have him... can't... Mine!"

Dean jackknifed up, his body covered in cold sweat. His stomach moved in and out with each heavy breath as he tried to shake the damned nightmare off. They'd been gone, Goddamn it, they'd left him alone, and now they were back.

"Dean?" Sam was startled, disoriented, but he reached out for Dean automatically. He untangled himself from the sheets clumsily, his hand settling on his brother's chest. "You okay?"

He sniffed and answered in a thick voice with sleep and emotion. "Yeah. I'll be okay. Same old," he nodded, throwing his head back. "Sorry I woke you."

"I know," Sam did know, each time Dean dreamed it, Sam awoke with it still hanging in his mind. It was Sam's blind faith in fate or something like that, he couldn't even put his finger on it. "When I was first at the Tel academy, I couldn't sleep at night. It was so quiet there - especially in my mind. We slept in separate rooms with thought dampeners - so there was nothing." Sam shifted around a bit on the sheets, getting comfortable. "I used to cry myself to sleep, remembering you, but with time - I started to think I had made you up. I suppose, it was a way for me to move on, I started to think that I had created a fantasy world. Of course, no one ever corrected me." He smiled wistfully, "I'm just glad - that I have your thoughts back now...when I fall asleep. Now, I know I didn't make any of it up. You were real all the time."

"You like having my thoughts. Just how were my thoughts right now any good for you?" he asked, still trying to shrug the nightmare off. "Only a masochist would want to live that over and over. So tired of it... so fucking tired. And they'd stopped." He dropped back on the bed. 

"I just meant..." Sam sighed, "never mind." There were moments when Sam thought that he would never get Dean back all the way, that the man was going to spend his entire life re-living, re-hashing an event that happened a lifetime ago. "I'm sorry that you have to live it over and over, I really am." He laid back down and rolled over, facing away from Dean. Maybe they wouldn't be torn apart - maybe they just couldn't be put back together.

"No, tell me." He followed Sam, leaning over him from behind so he could see his face in the dark. "I didn't to put this on you, I'm sorry. Explain it again." Dean wanted to believe there was a single good thing about this, he just didn't know what it was.

"Because when you dream it - I can feel it." Sam closed his eyes against the tears that were threatening. "Because you fought so hard, I can feel that you loved me." A muscle in his jaw twitched, "if I could have had that then, even the nightmare, I would have felt loved. I never .. felt loved." He squeezed his eyes tighter, then rubbed his hand down over his face. 

"Sam..." Dean held him tight, closing both arms around him just like someone was trying to steal him... pull him away. "I did love you... loved you so much." He felt his eyes tearing, felt wetness sliding down his cheeks. "And mom loved you, I know she did." He grit his teeth, imagining Sam going from a home like theirs, where he pretty much was the center of both his and his mom's world, to a place that was cold and lonely and loveless. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I wish... wish I'd been older. Wish I'd remembered more, wish I could have looked for you. So sorry," he kissed the top of his head, his shoulders shaking.

The sadness, the guilt, it was so much and it was so wrong. It wasn't Dean's fault that Sam had been taken away. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't old enough to fight back, strong enough to tear Sam out of the arms of full grown men. Sam turned in his brother's arms. "Dad sent me away. It wasn't your fault that you couldn't keep me there - it wasn't your fault that you didn't remember. I know ... that if I can see that from those dreams ... that you can see it - you just have to let yourself believe it."

Dean didn't answer. It didn't change anything, did it? He could still wish, did still wish all those things. Maybe if he'd known, understood the looks from his father, the way his jaw hardened, his eyes were unhappy when he watched him interact with his brother. Maybe if he hadn't taken that lightly, he would have kept more distance with his brother, and dad wouldn't have freaked out... wouldn't have given Sam away to strangers who didn't love him. Who didn't touch him. Who didn't explain what had just happened. 

"It was worth it." It was the most simple way that Sam could think to say it. "If I get to have you now. Then, it was worth it then." He pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth softly, knowing that Dean could feel that Sam was telling the truth.

Stunned by Sam's answer, it didn't even occur to him to get irritated over his brother's having read his thoughts. Again. A warmth flooded his system at the gentle touch of Sam's lips, at _his truth._ Dean tipped his head back, looked at Sam. "I think your brother must have dropped you on you head when you were young." At the blank look, he explained. "You're talking like I'm some prize. Thought I was an annoying jackass, or wait, what did you call me?" He proceeded to list all the insults Sam had heaped on him over the last couple of days, and some that he had probably been thinking but too polite to say.

Sam shrugged. "I didn't say I had good taste in men." He tried to keep the smile off his face as he smoothed the hair back off Dean's forehead. "Go back to sleep," he chewed his bottom lip for a few moments, "if you want, if you trust me, I can give you _my_ dreams." As he spoke his fingers curled around the medallions.

He was done sleeping, and he should let Sam get rest. And yet, he asked, "what do you dream about?"

"Sometime," he grinned, "when you're sleeping I'll let you know." Wrapping as much of himself around Dean as he could Sam drew in a deep breath. He wasn't going to let Dean wander off again; he wanted to keep him there and _not_ think about the complete mess that was going on outside their door. Nudging Dean's chin back, Sam dipped his head down and sucked gently on his brother's neck. "Wanna sleep more," his lips moved down Dean's neck.

Dean let out a breath, then slowly relaxed back onto the mattress. He started stroking Sam's hair, loving how silky it felt between his fingers, so different from his own coarser hair. "Tell me," he insisted, smiling as Sam tickled him with his mouth, "and stop that, or you might not get _any_ sleep."

"You ..." Sam trailed his tongue down over Dean's collar bone, his lips ghosting over his brother's flesh. He drew his hand down Dean's side, then trailed his fingers over his brother's shaft and curled them around his balls. "You ... but you giving in, letting go," his fingers played through Dean's coarse hair, "not controlling every single thing." He looked up, his tongue darting out to slip briefly into Dean's open mouth. "Just you..."

"Mmm," Dean's eyes closed briefly, his breath catching. "A... this is _not sleeping._ And B... I am _not_ a control freak." He was getting hard, fast, and he wanted Sam's hand around his shaft, so he reached down into his briefs and repositioned his brother's hand. "C... what did you dream about before your crazy notions about me?" It was a complete battle, but he won out, said what he wanted despite his rising need to just make love and stop thinking... stop talking.

Despite the fact that he was still sleepy, warmth was coursing through Sam's veins and his long fingers curled around his brother's hard length. Lashes resting on his cheeks, he mouthed his way back up Dean's neck and down his jaw. "Need to sleep," he whispered against his brother's jaw, smiling when he sensed the way it turned Dean on. "You _are_ a control freak," Sam sank his teeth hard into his brother's firm jaw, then let go and covered the same flesh with small licks of his tongue. "I dreamed about going home ... before you ... now I know - it _was_ to you." Sam's lips crushed up against Dean's, his tongue pushing through his brother's lips as his fingers curled tighter, slipping up and down Dean's cock.

Flames licked at Dean everywhere Sam touched him, so good... Sam just knew how to get to him, and maybe he should give up trying to pretend he had any control over that. Accepting his brother's tongue inside his mouth, he groaned as Sam squeezed him. _Harder._ He lifted his hips, nudging Sam to give him a little more, and then he was lost in the heady sensations of his brother's taste, and scent, of the way he felt. Tangling their tongues together nice and easy, he stroked Sam's side, moved his hand over Sam's abs, then circled lower and lower, almost smiling when he felt him start to tense. When their mouths slipped off each other so they could take a breath, he muttered, "insurance. Making sure you won't fall asleep on me," he said, his fingers grazing Sam's cock.

Moaning quietly Sam's hand spiraled up and down his brother's cock, squeezing gently, his thumb grazing over the head. His mouth moved against Dean's sleepily, sucking, licking, kissing - wet and warm. His hand never stopped moving, touching, squeezing; sliding his hand down to the base of Dean's cock he let his thumb drag down once more over Dean's balls then slipped his hand down to grab them, rolling them in his palm - thick and full. Fist closing over them hard for a few moments, he let go and curled his hand around the thick cock again. Nipping at Dean's bottom lip, Sam smiled.

As they kissed again, Dean started to move his fist over Sam's cock, stroking him to the same easy pace that his tongue was moving in and out of his brother's mouth. He was a little surprised that Sam wasn't rushing them. Despite what he might think about himself, Sam was not as patient as he thought he was. Maybe this was the secret... sex real late at night, but not in the early morning when he was too energetic. "Mmm, good Sam," he mumbled against his mouth, leaning in toward him, moving his mouth across Sam's jaw, and to his ear. "Just like that, Sam, just like that," he whispered, a desperate edge creeping into his voice even as he fought to make this moment last.

Sam's leg slid over Dean's, pulling their hips closer together. He brushed his lips back and forth across Dean's, sucking his tongue deep into his mouth. He was moaning softly, almost purring out a sound from deep within his chest. With each upward stroke up Dean's hand Sam's hips rolled slowly forward, loving the slow rhythm. He took a deep breath in between kisses, "this is ... better than sleeping..."

"And dreaming," Dean agreed, fucking into Sam's fist harder now, his hip bone brushing against Sam's with every thrust. He loved how rigid and hard Sam felt in his hand, how his soft murmurs changed depending on how he touched Sam. Slipping his middle finger under his brother's cock, he pressed the sensitive area in front of his sack, using his thumb to stroke, while he continued to squeeze him. 

They were hardly moving, and it was so damned erotic... so damned sensuous because of the feed back between them. Dean's need, his brothers responses, all of it mixing, drawing him deeper and deeper into a world he was sure no one else could share. Just them. This was just them. A place that was safe, and warm, and exciting, and could be in turns calm or stormy. 

Rolling half on top of Sam, Dean kissed him hard, lifted his head. "This is it... now baby, please now." He brought his mouth down messily over Sam's, his tongue delving inside Sam's wet heat as his body tensed. He jerked in Sam's fist, groaned, then started to explode, ropes of cum spurting over both of them.

" _God ... Dean..._ ". Sam's voice was thick, his chest heaving under his brother's weight. Tearing his mouth away from his brother's he threw his head back. Sam's breath whooshed out of his body as he cried out Dean's name; his cock throbbed hard and fast in Dean's fist and his hips jolted forward. Shudders ran down the length of his body, waves and waves of pleasure, his and Dean's. It was better every time they were together, stronger, the bond tying their thoughts and emotions together. Drawing breath back into his lungs he brought his head down and slanted his mouth over Dean's once more, sucking on his kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Kissing him back, Dean pulled Sam into his arms, rolling on his back so his brother was on top of him. His hands never stopped moving, never stopped tracing his brother's body, the strong lines of his back, his ass, his thighs. It was like he couldn't stop touching him, making up for lost time maybe. Or validating that they were both still here. "This is what we should have done when we got back... not argued," he whispered thickly. "This.." he kissed him again.

"Wanted to..." Sam kissed him back, shifting to get more comfortable, "you were too stubborn." The way his body fit against Dean, the way his hands were moving over his skin - everything was _right_. Sam's hand curled into his chest and settled once more around the medallions. "In case you try," he yawned, "to steal it." If everything got all screwed to hell tomorrow Sam would be glad that he finally made a little progress with Dean. It felt like Dean had let him _in_ a little, closer, taken a chance. Sam didn't know what had changed, really, or why but he knew he liked being right where he was.

Dean chuckled. "It helped me for a long time. Only fair it help you now." With Sam on top of him, he didn't miss the medallion. "Alright. Let's see what Sam _Winchester_ dreams about," he muttered casually, closing his eyes.

Grinning, rubbing his cheek against Dean's, Sam whispered, "you won't be sorry."

Dean had slipped out in the morning to go see whether he could boost communications, and if he could find any readings that indicated a response to the outgoing messages. By the time he got back to his place, he found Sam was awake, showered and having coffee.

"Morning." He grinned and went to get more coffee for himself, turning to watch Sam. "Red blindfold on me, THAT  
's what you dream about. Really?" He snickered, though his body flushed with heat at the memory of Sam's dream.

Sam's cheeks reddened a little and he shrugged a shoulder as he fought a smile. "I said they were good. Any news?"

"Nope, still blocking the transmissions. I got some blips that might indicate ships in the area, but if that's what they are, I can't tell whether they're en route to here."

"So..." Sam shifted forward to the edge of the couch, "you ready? I want to go out and try one last time. I slept well - no headache. Been focusing all morning ... so I'm good. One last time?" He looked up at Dean, both their faces serious.

"You know it's not critical anymore, you get that, right? There will be a rescue." Dean was deathly calm as he spoke, even when he saw the determination in Sam's eyes. He put himself in Sam's place, Sam's job... his job to monitor both human and other brain activities, his discovery, if there was something important to be discovered. Giving a nod, he went to grab his probably useless weapons.

Sam read Dean's face, not his thoughts, and knew that his brother was only doing this because _Sam_ felt he needed to. Something wasn't right. Sam knew there was some connection, some reason and was determined to figure it out. He pulled his jacket on, not bothering with a weapon and moved over to the door. Letting his hand rest on Dean's shoulder he smiled, "listen... thanks... I know..." he shrugged. 

"Just my luck... you turn out to be 'super bad tel guy.'" He gave a grim return smile. "Let's go step on the monster's tail." Allowing Sam to go through the door, he moved through and it hissed shut behind them.


	11. Chapter 11

It was easier than it should have been for Sam to open his mind completely. He knew there was nothing Dean could do if things started to go South but he took comfort in his brother's presence anyway.

As he walked closer to the pit, Sam tried to project a feeling of peace, a complete and utter lack of animosity. He thought about the dreams Dean had shared with him - projected the feelings of loss, fear - the unknown and then the hurt.

It was the strangest sensation. Information came at Sam - came at him like a slow, dripping liquid. Just a drop after another drop. Sam was just so much more focused than he had been before, determined. Now that he had more of an idea where to start he was approaching the pit with a different attitude. As he reached the edge of the pit, his stomach tightened briefly; memories of their last encounter flooded Sam. He would never lose the image of Dean being torn from his hands.

The flood of images increased. Sam kneeled by the edge of the pit - eyes laser focused on the impression left by Dean's body. Fear. Eyes fluttering closed, Sam shivered a little - tendrils of thought and emotion creeping into his mind like icy fingers. The pain started immediately, the fiery cold burning it's path through Sam's memories. He could feel things being drawn out of his memory; the loss of his family, the first aching nights alone when he was so young, falling asleep with damp cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, the first time he laughed at the academy, his loves and his friends, the things that made him smile, the times he had lost his temper. As the flood of emotions and memories rushed out of Sam's body he fought to draw breath into his lungs; it was like two opposing floods of water crashing into each other, a vortex that was drawing Sam in.

He let go, let the being have what it wanted, his last movement to grasp the medallions around his neck.

Alone for so long, time beyond what Sam’s mind was capable of understanding. Alone, with itself, with all of it – the pieces that made the whole, less than something vast and endless, more than something diminutive and finite. More and Less. See and learn – pull, you, pull. The planet, the circle is the whole. Circle. Whole.

Sam’s face was contorted as he tried to stay with the stream, tried to cling to his reality so he could make sense of it. Dean. Dean was so close still, would come no closer unless Sam called out to him – this small thing they had managed to agree upon.

Hurting the whole. Drilling, why drilling? Pain, loss, anger. The whole can only be with the parts, with the small. Leave. Leave. Leave.

Barely aware of the blood pouring from his nose, Sam’s fingers clenched so tight around the medallions they left a small circular indent on his skin. The Circle. Struggling, fighting his way through the flow of images – Sam tried to seek more, question.

Hurting the small. Leave. Circle is all. Circle.

The planet, is the whole. The small? Sam’s brow furrowed and he gasped, tasting blood on his lips. He cried out, knocked back onto his back by his own dream thrown back at him.

"Sammy!" Dean lengthened his strides, running as fast as he could. When he reached them, his dad was lifting Sam by one arms. "Stop that, dad you're hurting him," he shouted, grabbing Sam, arms wrapping tight around his brother as he tugged him. "Let him go, let him go. Sam... what..." His brother was slipping from his hands as another man started to pull Dean back. "No, he's mine. Stop... Sam!" he shouted, his fingers digging into his brother, tearing into his skin as he refuse to give him up.

Tears were pouring down Sam's face, mixing with the blood from his nose; it was sending him back the loss. They were taking from it... the small... oh God. They were hurting it's young, the small, the smallest parts of it.

And just like that, it withdrew, the tendrils shot out of Sam's brain, the pain ended and he fell back onto the ground with a heaving chest. "Dean?"

Dean ran across the greens as fast as he could now that the vehicle they'd been using was out of bounds. He dropped down next to Sam, helping him up and dragging him away from the edge of the pit, expecting the vines to appear any moment. "We gotta get to a safer location," he said, knowing Sam's head must be exploding with pain, but that staying in the open was not an option. One arm under Sam's shoulder, he rushed him along, occasionally looking behind them. "Hang on."

"I g..got it, Dean," Sam blinked across at his brother, bleary-eyed, "I did it." He held on to Dean, trying to get his feet underneath him. Jesus, Dean was fast when he wanted to be. Shaking his head, Sam smiled slightly. "S'okay ... don't race for hell's sake..." Curling his hand over Dean's shoulder Sam squeezed it reassuringly.

Passing Sam a napkin for his bloody nose, Dean only slowed a little. "You got it... you communicated with it? Great." The smile told him Sam was happy with whatever he got, but while 'understanding' this thing was Sam's business, their security was Dean's. He wasn't gonna relax until they really were... secure inside those walls.

Swiping at his nose with the napkin, Sam's thoughts were still percolating in his mind. "It's a being, Dean," he whispered then hissed as a misstep made him jam the napkin against his nose hard, "dude! slow down." He stumbled along beside his brother, "it's not gonna do anything. I got it." He knew that arguing with Dean was pointless when the man had made up his mind about something. A slight smirk on his face, still wiping up blood, he kept pace with Dean as well as he could.

"Want me to pick you up?" That was the only answer Dean gave but Sam's mood was infectious, damn him. This was not the time to feel light and happy and optimistic. He tried not to look at Sam, knowing it would be over if he did, cause he'd smile, or laugh, and then Sam would 'win.' He had a sneaking suspicion that Sam knew this and probably already thought he had won.

Finally, they were at the entrance. Dean entered the code, the shutters opened up and the door behind the shutters slid open. Once they were inside, he let up. They made it to his unit at a much slower pace. "Alright... so... the suspense is killing me."

Smiling, Sam walked over to the sink and ran some water to wash his hands. "It's alive...the ... the whole place. Dean, I don't know how we missed it - except," he shrugged, "maybe we've never encountered anything like this before." Reaching to grab a cloth, Sam ran it under the cold tap and pressed it against the bridge of his nose. "It ... understood - about you and I...somehow that memory was a gateway." He cracked one eye open to look over at Dean's face.

"It's alive... the planet? You're telling me this heap of rock... it's..." The idea was staggering. Dean cocked his head. "We took up camp on something that's alive... great, no wonder it's pissed off." He took a breath. "It could have asked us to leave instead of..." All those people, all because of a mistake. "What it did... is that its version of flea medicine?" He didn't get the connection between their experiences and the memory gateway, unless that thing liked pain.

Sam turned slowly, "the small ... Dean, it's like, dammit how do I say it? We were doing something to it's ..pieces - I mean it sounds so stupid but it's like it's offspring or something but not." Sam paced across the room one hand still pressing the cool cloth to the side of his nose. It kept showing me that it's a whole but we were taking the pieces of it, the small." He whipped toward the table and started rifling through things looking for the touch screen he'd been perusing earlier to read the planet-side logs. "What were we doing when the first attack happened, Dean." He took a step back and sat down hard on the couch holding out the logs to his brother.

"Offspring." Dean understood the 'gateway' now. Taking the logs, he shuffled through them to the day of the first attack, running his finger down the page. "Marked the new area for development. The Beta defensive systems went on line." He rubbed his eyes, moving over the minor or standard events. "The quarry opened for business," he said, eyes lifting to meet Sam's. "Marble-like bricks were found, which would make a great luxury building material and for export to help sustain the planet's economy in the future. You think?" he asked, watching Sam go to the sofa.

Sam let his head fall back on the couch, "the pieces, yeah... it makes perfect sense... we took pieces of it, now I don't know if it's offspring, or .. or like someone cutting out chunks of our flesh but either way - I doubt very much we would enjoy it either." Shifting slightly, looking at the expression on his brother's face, the wide eyes, Sam couldn't help smiling. "We ... just couldn't hear it - couldn't understand what it was trying to say to us." He was pretty confident they'd be left alone until they could leave, but he knew he probably wouldn't manage to convince Dean of that easily.

"This is... big." Dean rubbed his eyes. "I don't envy you the report you're going to have to write," he grinned. "So you... explained to it that we didn't know?" He believed what Sam told him, but he was skeptical about the 'planet's' intent and wasn't going to just buy that they'd achieved a peace. Just as he was about to ask another question, his communications device went off, informing him the transmission blockage was no longer in place, and other prerecorded transmissions he'd made were going through.

He walked back to the kitchen area and immediately contacted Space Corps. After so long, it was really good to be able to contact someone other than themselves. The conversation was brief, but he ascertained that the rescue team would be in orbit in twelve hours.

When he returned, he had two steaming cups of coffee which he set on the table, then he sat next to Sam, on the sofa... a first. Pulling him close, he kissed him lightly, then had him lay down on his lap as he massaged his temples. Their time alone was growing short, but he wasn't gonna think on that. Not right now. Now, he'd listened to Sam's discovery, and let him know how proud he was of him. "Okay Mr. Soon-to-be-too-famous to talk to a mere Captain, I'd be honored to be first to hear everything you got, and I promise not to sell it to the Galaxy Gossip Rag," he grinned.

It was difficult for Sam to explain everything to Dean. In the end he used a combination of projected images and speaking which seemed to do the trick. They discussed the best way to approach the interplanetary planning commission and what steps should be taken first to ensure the right information got to the people with the appropriate power. Turning so his nose brushed against Dean's shirt, one hand tucked behind his brother's back, Sam's eyes closed. In the strangest way they would be sad to leave here.

* * *

 

Shaved and fully dressed in his uniform, Dean moved to the bed and shook Sam awake. "Morning sleepy. They're gonna be here in two hours. I'll get breakfast," he said, knowing Sam would need to go get his own uniform.

"Already?" Sam groaned and slipped his legs out of the bed. It took him about fifteen minutes to get to his own quarters and track down his uniform. It felt as though he hadn't worn it for ten years. He had a quick shower, put his uniform on and strode back to Dean's quarters. As soon as the door slid open he could smell food. "I hope you made coffee, I deserve it."

"Coffee, toast, eggs... it's full service around here this morning, but grab your own milk and sugar," he jutted his chin toward the coffee, then took their plates over to the small dining table for two. "It'll probably be a relief for you... to be able to hear the buzzing of other minds soon." It was an interesting, too much bothered Tels, but so did too little. They had to strike a balance by blocking and opening themselves up, apparently. Dean had learned more about Tels in these few weeks with Sam than he had all his life.

"I kind of like your mind, I'll miss it." Neither of them had broached the subject of what would happen after. Either way, Sam knew he would feel some comfort just knowing that Dean was out there somewhere. "It's going to be a lot of work, a lot of red tape," he ran his hand through his hair as he sat down to eat. "You'll probably get another mission though, I bet they'll be clamoring to assign you somewhere really exciting.

"Maybe. Usually after something like this goes down, they assign some Tel schmuck to try to break into my mind... waste both our time, put me on two or three weeks leave... and then it's an assignment." He practically smiled, "and seeing as you were here the whole time, you probably won't be the one who's assigned to this hardass, so... I got nothing to worry about." He was pretty sure Sam would be given leave too.

He took the toast, and buttered it up. "First thing I'm going to do is have you removed from my..." he looked up briefly, then back down at what he was doing, "... my 'hell no, never on any assignment under my command, over my dead body' list. No one who's ever gotten on that list has ever been removed."

Sam choked on his coffee momentarily then laughed. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment then. Even though I should never have been on there." He took a bite of his toast. "I could just sign off for you, I have the clearance, then you wouldn't have to have anyone poking around in your mind."

"If they go for it, I'd appreciate that." Even though he knew by now that no one else could get in his head, it was always stressful, too many reminders, and always that fear that someone could get through, like Sam had at Beta Centauri. Grabbing his coffee, he drank some down. "I hear we're getting picked up by a passenger ship. Trip back will be a lot less like... camping."

Nodding, Sam ate some more of his egg. "So - I guess we'll see a bit of each on the trip, yeah?" He wouldn't be himself if he didn't at least attempt to find out where they might stand once they left planet-side. He already had a sneaking suspicion that Dean might just disappear for a while, immerse himself in his old life - find his way back to where he was most comfortable. Captain Winchester wasn't much of a boundary pusher when it came to his own emotional safety.

"Two week trip, I'm sure we'll see a lot of each other," Dean nodded. "You did say you play pool." He rubbed the back of his neck, and took a breath.

Sam looked down at his plate, just as he thought. "Yeah," he sighed, "I do, just let me know when and I'll kick your ass." He put his fork down, suddenly his appetite had fled. "Is it time soon? I should probably go and pack my bag. I don't have much, but I need to grab some papers from my quarters."

"Suddenly my cooking isn't good enough, now that you'll be on a class 6 ship." Dean ran a hand over his face. "Sam..." He got up and paced away. "If there's something you need to get off your chest... go ahead." He should have gone with plan A, left it at the joke. What the hell was he doing giving Sam an opening like that?

"I'm just ... curious, I guess, what will happen to us once we leave here." His eyes followed his brother as he moved across the room. "But, I know you don't like to talk about things like that. I know we don't have... I mean, there's no agreement or anything..." God, he was getting it all wrong in so many ways. "I just ... I just want to know that you'll still be my brother... that I might hear from you every now and again." He rested his head in his hands and waited for the fireworks.

Walking back, Dean crouched in front of Sam, holding his shoulders and making him look at him. "I will always be your brother. I won't let let us lose contact, not ever. That's a promise, Sammy. Besides, you have something that's mine." His gaze dropped to Sam's chest. Then he looked up. "I just don't know... don't know what to do with the rest of what's between us. I think some time apart will be good, give us a chance to think. You make it too fucking hard for me to think straight," he admitted.

It wasn't at all the answer Sam wanted, but it was better than what he expected. Letting his hand slip up to Dean's cheek was the easiest thing in the world, and he ran his thumb across his brother's bottom lip. "Okay." It was really all he could offer, the last thing he wanted to do was waste time trying to convince Dean that the rest of what was between them... was everything. There was no separation in Sam's mind. "I'd better get my stuff." He smiled and let his hand drop to his lap.

Dean got up, walked him to the door, then held him close for a few long moments, silent and unable to give him up just yet, but equally unable to make him any promises.

* * *

They'd been on the ship for three days and had seen each other through long hours of debriefings, and other meetings. Though the passenger ship was not a military vessel, there were the usual number of Space Corps personnel, as well as Tel Unit agents monitoring both those who chose to be awake, and the sleepers. A ship like this had far fewer sleepers.

The entire time, Dean was very aware of Sam's presence, his eyes were constantly drawn to his brother. He'd remembered a couple more facts about their childhood, and sent Sam some taped messages that he could watch, but they'd had no time alone. He could see Sam was getting restless, edgy, sensed it somehow. And maybe... maybe the feelings were echoed in him. He hadn't had any nightmares, but he hadn't slept as well as he had when Sam was around him.

So he'd sent Sam another message, asking if he wanted to meet at the bar and then maybe play some pool. He'd called it a 'play date,' and laughed.

* * *

Tanya, an ensign at Space Corps was just accepting her drink from the bar tender when a tall, handsome man walked up to the bar, and sat one seat away. She looked over at him with interest, then gave a sigh. She recognized him from all the meetings, and from the looks she'd seen being passed between him and Captain Winchester, she was pretty sure he was 'taken.' Or his heart was, anyway.

She searched his face as he ordered, then smiled when he looked at her and nodded. "I know you're a Tel," she said without any rancor, "but you shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve. Not with that certain someone you're interested in. Believe me, I know... it'll just send him spinning the other way."

Sam huffed out a small laugh and almost spilled some of his drink. "Wow - I'm not used to the being the one who's read." He extended his hand, "Sam... " She was quite beautiful, in an exotic way, with deep set eyes and dark lashes, short hair in that sort of ragged I-don't-care-much way.

"Tanya," she said, smiling at him. "I do have some Tel capabilities, but didn't score high enough for Tel Unit," she said. "I wasn't doing that kind of reading. Guess you had some adventure, kind of like being shipwrecked on an island ... couldn't be more romantic."

"It was more like a blood-bath than a romantic get-away." Sam drained his glass and nodded to the bartender for another one. "So you seem to know a little about the Captain?" He tilted his head and watched her out of the corner of his eye.

She gave a throaty laugh. "Yeah. More than a little," she looked over at him. "Relax, it was a couple years ago. But I recognized the look on your face... I was you," she shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, he can be a nice guy, hard but fair, I think. But romance... make that relationships... that's not his thing. You hoping for one, or can you handle casual sex?"

Grinning Sam spun his empty glass until the bartender exchanged it for a full one. "I've had a bit of both, I'm not sure what I'm interested in with anyone." It was a white lie, but if Sam had learned anything, he knew that Dean probably wouldn't have appreciated them having a tete-a-tete about him. "So - you still friends with him? Seems like the kind of man who could do that."

"I wouldn't say 'friends,' but we talk, meet up once in a while. I tried for the relationship thing," she admitted. "Probably the only reason he doesn't avoid me is I'm not clingy, or heartbroken. See now that would be a big crime," she laughed. "So you... Sam... keep your heart together, okay? We need to stick together..."

Dean wore a frown as he walked up to them and heard the tail end of the conversation. "Isn't this every man's dream, to find his girlfriends gabbing... probably about himself. Do I need a double?" he asked, looking between Sam and Tanya.

Rolling his eyes Sam looked off to the side to hide his grin and took another swallow of his drink. "Actually, Dean," he said as he turned back, "we were discussing the finer points of Enuvian art. We're both amateur scholars." He couldn't keep his nose from wrinkling slightly as he tried not to laugh.

"Then if you continue that conversation, I might need a triple." He ordered a beer. "Tanya," he gave her a nod.

"Captain." She took a sip of her drink. "It's nice seeing you relax. After today's grilling you must..." The flat monitor on the bar top next to her gave a bleep and she hit the 'go' button and looked at the face on the monitor, then looked around the room.

Dean glanced at it. "Nah, he looks too... feminine."

"It's a woman," Tanya said with a laugh. "I'll see you later, this should be interesting." She walked away from them.

"Whew... if she'd gone for a femguy, I'd have wondered..." Dean said, knowing full well there was no way Tanya and Sam hadn't talked.

Sam smiled and took another drink, "she's sweet. I like her. Gave me some good advice." He shifted over and nodded at the empty stool. "I'd offer to buy you a drink but you've already got one."

"Advice... trust me on this one, you don't need any 'how to' tips on what to do in bed." He raised a brow. "What exactly did she say?" Maybe he shouldn't be asking, but it was too late to take the question back.

"Well," Sam drained his glass and slid it away from him, "she told me that you're not one for relationships and I should protect myself. " Sam spun on his stool to face Dean, "she said you're very good at casual sex and not much more than that." Sam really wanted to think that she was completely wrong - but - he didn't have too much to base it on.

"I see." He saw the question burning in Sam's eyes and cocked his head. "You already know the answer to that Sam. You've been in my head. You know it's pretty good advice." Hadn't he even told Sam that? But he never made any promises he couldn't keep, so that should maybe count for something. "Want another?" he nodded toward Sam's empty glass.

"I didn't say she was wrong, did I?" Sam smiled wistfully. "And, no - I think I've had enough to drink for one night, it was a long day." His smile softened. "You enjoying your time on board?"

Dean gave a shrug. "Too many meetings, but it's almost over... and then there'll be too much free time which I hate," he chuckled, knowing that was strange. "You? Enjoying your fame?" He paid the bill with his card then nodded toward the pool table he'd reserved in the adjoining room.

"Yeah," his smile broadened, "for once people are thinking nice things about me most of the time. I've been looking forward to kicking your ass at pool ever since you mentioned it." He stood and stretched. "Let's do it."

Five hours flew by and before Dean knew it, the bar was closing and they were being asked to leave. Sam was as good as he'd said. They'd played a couple games against each other, then teamed up to kiss some major ass. They'd laughed and joked and hell... he didn't know about Sam, but it sure felt like they'd been friends... known each other all their lives, that's how comfortable Dean felt in his company. Something else was going on too. Now that they weren't faced with the threat of being killed, he had time to be more aware of their interactions. He realized that they didn't necessarily speak in full sentences to each other, and that they completed many of their thoughts simply with body language or a certain look. Just like when they'd been kids... like their private language was coming back to them.

When they said goodnight, it was just a little awkward, but Dean covered with a quick light kiss, and left Sam at his door, walking the short distance down the hall to his own room. When he walked in, he felt a strong tug on his soul... he almost walked back out to ask Sam to spend the night with him. Almost.

* * *

Dean lay on the bed clad in jeans and a tee shirt. His gaze was trained on Sam, standing in the middle of the room, lips parted, looking back at him. "Take off the shirt," Dean said. "Lemme see you."

As Sam slowly removed the shirt, Dean sucked his breath in, eyes drinking in the sight of perfectly chiseled muscles, rippling with every movement that Sam made. He stared for a long time, his cock stirring as he thought of the sex they'd have. "Take off the pants. Take everything off," he said, nostrils flaring as Sam did as he asked.

Dean's heated gaze traveled up and down Sam's body, lingering on his half hard cock. "Come. Lay down on top of me," he demanded.

The weight of Sam's naked body pressed down one him, made him all sorts of aware of his brother. His scent was dizzying, the heat seeping through his clothes had Dean wanting to tear his own clothes off. But no, he liked having Sam naked, and being the one still dressed, it gave him a sense of power, control. Closing his arms around Sam, he started to stroke his hands over Sam's body, his back, his ass, his thighs. "So perfect," he said, slanting his mouth over Sam's and kissing him hard.

Dean stroked and touched and thrust his hips up, had Sam riding him over his jeans, had both of them so fucking frustrated and needy, but refused to take his cloths off. The sounds Sam made washed over him, got him even harder, had him pulsing hard against Sam's firm thigh, had him gripping Sam's ass, making him ride him harder. "Good... so good..." his body was covered in a sheen of sweat, so was Sam's. He heard his pleas for release, but kept kissing and touching, and making them both burn up.

* * *

Sam sat bolt upright in bed. He'd felt this before, urgency, Dean wanted him, needed him. Sam slipped out of bed, still in his sweats and pulled a t-shirt on as he padded barefoot out the door. As he moved through the quiet hallways, Dean's emotions wrapped around him. Sam's breath sped up, his heart rate increasing steadily as he got closer. By the time he reached the door to Dean's quarters he was panting softly and half-hard and aching. Leaning his head against the cool metal of the door for a few moments, he tapped his fingers softly next to the keypad. Reaching slightly to the right, he tapped his birth date into the keypad and smiled as the door shushed open.

The floor was cool beneath his feet as he moved silently over to Dean's bed ridding himself of his t-shirt and sweats, slipping into the bed in his boxers. He was shivering and pressed up against Dean's warm side. "Hey," he whispered against his brother's ear, "you... called me ...."

"Sammy." It was simultaneous, for a split second, Dean was still in his dream as he wrapped his arms around Sam, then he woke and was surprised Sam had made it past the secured door and to the bed, and then his hard arousal was pressing into Sam's hip, and he had rolled Sam onto his back, and was kissing the hell out of him. His hand moved up and down Sam's body, his side, his hip, like he couldn't get enough. The dream had whipped up his need, but as he tasted Sam, his Sam, he knew that it wasn't just the dream. God this felt so damned good, so damned right. "Missed you. Missed this," he murmured, cupping Sam's face and thrusting his tongue into Sam's mouth again, tangling it with his brother's.

Jesus, Dean was so wound up, he was damn near suffocating Sam with the want. Sam's heart was pounding, skipping beats, his blood pumping warm through his veins. He let himself fall into the kiss for a few long moments, then pushed gently against Dean's chest - tearing his lips away from his brother's. He pressed his eyes closed, still tasting Dean on his lips. God. "Dean... I need to know..." His eyes opened slowly gazing straight into Dean's.

Still half asleep, Dean followed Sam's mouth, tried to get more, but Sam's hands on his chest stopped him again. He was so fucking hard, so needy... and he had what he needed, who he needed right here in his bed, and this wasn't making any sense to him. "Need you, Sam." He licked his lips, reading the seriousness in Sam's eyes and understanding that he wasn't playing. "What... what are you doing in my bed if you don't want this?" he asked, striving for control, just enough to pull away.

Sam steeled himself and slid his hand up to cup the back of Dean's neck, not letting him get away. "I do want this, I want you. You can feel that....But I want to know what we're doing." He could feel the frustration coming off Dean like steam, scorching his mind. "Is this just another night?"

"Sam, this is not the time to talk." He was breathing hard, his heart was pounding, his body aching and throbbing for one thing, for one man, one man who said he wanted this, who was half naked in his bed... it didn't make sense. "What do you want?" he managed, finally, his lips grazing Sam's cheek even as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

"I need to know either way so I can make a decision. You can feel what I want, I know you can. What I need to know is what this is going to be. Is this one more casual night? That's fine - if that's what it is. Or is this more, are we going to be more? I .. can't keep doing this if I don't know." Sam's stomach was churning. He could feel Dean's confusion but Sam's own emotions were over the top and he couldn't sort them all out.

"Hold on... I can tell what you want? Who's the Goddamned Telepath?" Dean demanded, this time wrenching away and sitting up. He rubbed his eyes. "Can't do what, Sam? Did I come and drag you out of bed? I must have been fucking sleepwalking, if that's what happened," he bristled. "You ruined a damned good dream, and you know something... I don't get a helluvalot of those."

"Dean, stop it." Sam blocked almost automatically, the anger making him flinch back from his brother. "Enough." He pushed up, knocking Dean to the side a little, "enough with the blustery, over-the-top, gruff, military, shit. Do you want a relationship with me?" Sam's hand slid down Dean's body palm pressing hard against his brother's still hard cock where it strained against his shorts. "Do you want this," his fingers squeezed, "or are we just going to play pool and basketball and hang out in bars sometimes." He pulled his hand away, "I'm fine with both, with either, but you choose and you choose now. I'm not going to keep doing this, keep..." he was losing his momentum a little as his heart felt heavier and heavier, "k..keep setting myself up to think this is more when it's not, and I want more - we both know I want more... " his voice trailed off.

"Sonova..." Dean hissed when Sam squeezed his already hard cock and then took his hand away. A lot of choice swear words were about to tumble from his lips as he threw him out of his room for teasing like that, but somehow Sam's words sank in through the haze of lust, anger and sleep. His nostrils flared as he struggled with the question, a question he'd thought he put off for a while. But now Sam was making him face it head on.

His head was buzzing, his insides in a turmoil of emotions... hadn't he told Sam it was hard to think when he was around? Make that doubly so when he was sexed up... Fuck. Dipping his head down, he rested his face in the crook of Sam's neck, trying to quiet the storm, trying to find the voice that would tell him how to answer that question. Closing his eyes, he imagined both options. Being with Sam... and being with Sam. He tried imagining Sam walking off with another man, another Kevin... imagined himself doing the same. Each time... each fucking time, he felt like he was on that damn dock all over again, Sammy slipping from his fingers. It hurt. Hurt bad.

"I want..." He lifted his head, grabbed Sam's tee shirt, holding it tight. "I need... the whole package. Everything. But I don't know... I don't know if I... I don't know that I'd be good at it."

If Sam couldn't read emotions, he'd probably be in the kind of state where he would have blurted out really? you really want that? Because, honestly, he had thought that was what his brother wanted but he wasn't sure Dean would let himself have it. "Okay... then." He shrugged and slid his hand over Dean's hair, smoothing it down and taking a deep breath. "I... uh... I .... okay."

"Okay then?" Dean took a breath. "That's a little... anti-climatic," he blew his breath out. The truth was, he was glad Sam wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. He still needed to get used to the idea himself. His fingers curled tightly around Sam's arms, eyes locking with his brothers.

"Well, the way I see it," Sam leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dean's, "there are a couple of things I could do with my mouth. I could talk some more... or," he sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth and bit down on it pulling back and letting it drag through his teeth.

Moaning at the sensations that went through him, Dean's fingers bit into Sam's arms. "I'll take door number two. Put that mouth to use," he said, leaning in and kissing Sam, then returning the favor, sucking hard on his bottom lip and pulling of slowly. Time slowed... then sped up suddenly, and they were both clawing at each others' tee shirts, pulling them up over their heads and tossing them.

They were mid-kiss, and Dean was starting to push Sam down on his back when he pulled away. "Aren't you forgetting something?" At Sam's look, he raised a brow. "You're the Tel."

The corners of Sam's mouth twitched then turned up into a smile. "Yes, I am." His hands slid over the muscles of Dean's back, pulling him closer again, "and yes, I love you."

"Yes, you do," Dean agreed, smiling against his throat and laughing at the nudge he received. "I'm working my way up to it, hold on," he pushed Sam down, covering his mouth in a hungry kiss. Now that the decision was made, he wondered why it had been so difficult. He couldn't really imagine or see his life going back to what it was before Sam, not when he knew what that empty feeling meant, and how easy it was to displace it with this man, right here. He wasn't a romantic, but if there was such a thing as soul mates, they had to qualify... had to.

"I love this," he said, moving his mouth across Sam's face, his jaw, and back to his mouth, sucking his upper lip into his mouth. His hand ran up and down Sam's chest as he lowered his head again, kissing down Sam's throat, then leaving hot trails along his collar bone, and moving lower. "Love how you feel, taste," he said, dragging his tongue along Sam's pecs, then vibrating it around his nipple, "how you respond," now he played with the small raised nub, before making his way to his other nipple. "Mostly..." He started kissing down Sam's belly. "I love how you're mine." He raised his head. "You have to be... because they couldn't take you completely away from me, couldn't rip you outta my head."

A little dart of pleasure shot through Sam's body, the words were wrapped up in the emotions he felt from his brother. "Of course..." his words were cut off as he moaned, his stomach muscles clenching under Dean's lips, "they couldn't..." the last part was a whisper, "take me away." Sam's fingers moved around Dean's neck, working the tight muscles on either side of his brother's spine. Biting off a moan that crawled up from deep inside him, Sam's hips canted up against Dean's firm body - he could never have given this up, never.

God if felt so good when Sam jerked up against him, like he could no longer control his feelings and responses, than Dean could. Licking a wet, hot trail along Sam's lower abs, Dean started to kiss his hip bone, scraping his teeth along it, then kissing it again. He slid his hands under Sam's ass, squeezing, lifting him up towards his mouth, his chest and neck brushing over his cock, the thin material of his shorts barely hiding anything. "This for me, Sammy?" Dean asked, heat flooding his system as he traced the rigid outline of Sam's cock with his mouth, licking over his underwear, sucking on it until it was wet. "Did you share my dream? You were naked and I was... dressed. I think you were trying to drive me crazy. My turn now," he smiled, sliding his hand down, lifting Sam's leg slightly so he could kiss his inner thigh.

Sam's hand shot out and slammed down on Dean's shoulder. "Dean, d..d..don't tease...want you," Sam's head fell back and whipped from side to side. It felt like he'd been waiting a year for this, he'd been watching Dean for days - ever since they got on board. The sway of his hips as he walked away, the way he rubbed his hand across his chest when he was deep in thought, tight material pulled across the curve of his hip; Sam moaned and a growl started somewhere deep inside him.

Hard muscles rippled under his mouth. His brother was damned strong, and he had to hold him down to prevent him from moving, from making him go back where he needed the most pressure. "What are you thinking? Right now?" Dean asked, lowering his mouth and sucking his way down Sam's thigh, stopping to kiss and lick, to linger wherever he got the most reaction.

"Thinking?" Sam echoed almost in disbelief, he could barely breathe, let alone think. The dream. Hands sliding over sweat slick skin. Dean's tongue - hot, wet, forceful - fucking into Sam's mouth. Sam's hips rolled up, desperate for friction, movement, anything. "Dean.." He knew his brother could feel everything "Thinking about you... dream, way you move, Dean..." JesusChrist Sam's body writhed against the bed, everywhere Dean sucked flesh into his mouth Sam's skin caught fire. Dean's mouth, wet, sliding down over Sam's cock, sucking, tongue slipping in and out of the slit. "Need you...."


	12. Chapter 12

Fuck. This feedback thing made it harder to stay focused... in control. He knew exactly what Sam wanted... how he felt... how much he needed it, and it intensified his lust. His brother was so hard, so fucking stiff it made Dean ache too. Pulling Sam's shorts down and off, Dean moved his mouth up and down Sam's length, sucking, licking, his hands roaming the expanse of Sam's abs, his sides, chest. He wanted, needed to touch ... to love every inch of his brother.

As Sam fucked desperately into his mouth, Sam's desires... his needs became Dean's. Fire inched through Dean's veins, forcing him to take note, to do something about it. Pulling his mouth off Sam's weeping cock, he licked it from base to tip, then crawled up Sam's body.

Hips jerking forwards at the loss of Dean's heat, Sam moaned softly . No one had ever made him feel the way that Dean did. It was insane. Not only was Dean's body the sexiest things Sam could remember laying eyes on, but it was the way he touched him, the feel of his rough hands on Sam's sensitive skin, his power and the way he reigned in his strength - just enough.

The instant he lowered over Sam, he brought his mouth down hard over Sam's. Plunging his tongue into the wet heat of Sam's mouth, he kissed him fiercely, demanding the response he'd dreamed about, tongue fucking Sam's mouth, his hand cupping his brother's face, moving it side to side each time he retracted his tongue, only to take him again. So good, so fucking good... like you're made for me.

Sam's body shuddered; every muscle, every nerve responding to Dean. He slid a long leg over Dean's, locking them together, hands clawing against Dean's back as he tried to get as close as he could. Sucking hard on his brother's tongue Sam rubbed his cheek against Dean's hands trying to get more Strained, muscles twitching, spine arching up - Sam tried to wrestle his way closer. Frustrated, want you, please. He was so hard it hurt, every touch of Dean's skin, the toned muscle of his brother's thigh. Bucking up against Dean, Sam muttered, moaned, wanted.

Dean pushed his lower body down harder, one hand pressed flat against the mattress to give him leverage. With deliberate wave like motions, he ground against Sam's cock, trapped between their bodies, giving his brother the pressure he needed. He brought their bodies together over and over, dipping down, kissing Sam, raising his head and shoulders up to be able to grind harder, and then needing another taste. Their groans of need echoed around him. Somehow, the pushed both their damned shorts down the rest of the way, got them off, their cocks leaving hot trails of precum over each others' stomachs and hips.

God Dean, yes ... " Sam's voice broke off. He did everything he could to slide his body against his brothers, dragging his foot up he braced himself, grinding his hips up against Dean's. Shoving Dean's arm aside Sam grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down crashing their mouths together. Somewhere ... gnawing at the edges of his awareness Sam thought he could hear something buzzing. He shoved his tongue in Dean's mouth, wide arcs sweeping around Dean's mouth as his fingers dug into his brother's arm. And then Dean's mouth was gone... Dean was moving away, "Dean?" His body instantly missed Dean's warmth, "Dean! what the hell?"

Dean raised a finger, asking for a moment as he got off the bed. His cock was painfully hard, his breaths labored, but he crossed the room and picked up his bleeping communications device, cursing. "Yes? What? Do you know what time it is? Oh...." Dean bit his lip, it was true, he was usually up at this time. "Alright, make it fast." Fuck... He looked over at Sam on the bed, then pulled his gaze completely away so he could concentrate on the call.

Groaning in frustration Sam rolled towards the edge of the bed and slid to the floor. He kicked away his shorts and ran his hand over his chest, God, his eyes moved over Dean's ass, the muscles rippling in his thighs as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He knew Dean couldn't look at him, could feel how turned on his brother was.

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched and he moved over to stand as close to Dean's back as he could without touching him. Heat was pouring off Dean's body. Sam leaned down and inhaled a deep breath right by Dean's ear. "You smell so fucking good," he whispered. Ducking down he bit down hard on the side of Dean's neck, sliding one hand under his arm and catching his brother's nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Each time Sam's fingers tightened on the hard bud of flesh he sucked hard on Dean's neck.

"Mmm... no, I wasn't talking to you," Dean snapped, his body on fire. He tried to gently push Sam away, raising a finger again to ask for a moment, then clearing his throat and trying to sound intelligent as he responded to some of the choices he was being given. But Sam wouldn't quit, and soon Dean was leaning back into him, his heart racing all over again. "Would you hurry it up, already?"

As he licked his way across the back of Dean's shoulders Sam's hand slid down his brother's chest and curled around the base of his still rock hard cock. He mouthed his way down from the nape of Dean's neck, nipping and licking, hand pumping his brother's shaft slowly. Rolling his hips hard against Dean's ass was driving him crazy, probably driving them both crazy. "God, get off that thing," he growled.

Clapping his hand on the receiver, Dean turned his head. "S... Sam, just one min ... a..." Oh God, the way Sam was pumping him, the way he was fucking into his ass... no way, no way Dean could think anymore. "Call me in the morning." Tossing the device onto the foot of the bed, he finally let out the groan that had been welling the back of his throat. "Jesus Sam... that was the General's assistant.... what are you doing to me?" He leaned back, trying to reach Sam's mouth.

Laughing softly, deeply, Sam leaned forward and breathed against Dean's ear, "I'm trying to get you to fuck me." His hot tongue dragged up the shell of Dean's ear and his aching cock pressed hard into Dean's hip as Sam slid forward slightly to capture Dean's mouth with his own. He drew in a shuddering breath, sliding his tongue deep into his brother's mouth.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but Sam's tongue inside his mouth prevented him from having to make a choice. A few kisses later, he twisted around and pulled Sam up hard against his body, molding him close. "Alright, Sammy," he rubbed his mouth across his brothers, avoiding his tongue. "Don't have to ask twice. Gonna fuck you now."

Pulling away, Dean turned Sam around and pushed him toward the wall. "Spread 'em," he smacked Sam's ass, grinning.

Rolling his eyes, "seriously," Sam was getting tired of the waiting. He'd been waiting long enough. Moving to turn around he reached back for Dean's hand, "come on," he licked his lips, chest heaving. "Don't order me around like one of your Corps boys." He grinned back.

"Ordering... you haven't seen 'ordering' yet." Encircling Sam's waist with his arm, he pulled Sam close so every inch of him was touching, pressing against Sam's body, he kissed his way up his throat then spoke against his ear. "In, out, right, left, harder, softer, in, out... that's me giving orders," he said, speaking each word like a command and thrusting against Sam's ass cheek as if in compliance. "Now be good and let me get you ready, before we both explode."

Swallowing hard Sam let out a strangled moan, "control freak," he murmured, letting Dean move him exactly where they both wanted him to be.

That didn't deserve an answer. Dean kissed his way down Sam's body, his mouth skimming over both ass cheeks before he pulled them apart and licked Sam's tight hole a few times, wetting him. He slid his finger down, slowly working it inside in conjunction with the movements of his tongue, keeping Sam wet. Then he was able to start tongue fucking him, pushing his tongue as far along his finger as it could go. He worked fast, wanting... needing to open his brother up as quickly as possible before they both went mad.

He felt Sam nudge backwards, and worked a second finger inside him. When the thought of maybe getting the lube crossed his mind, he pulled his tongue and fingers out.

Murmuring senselessly, Sam's mind was certainly not quiet. No... no...stay..., he slammed his hands against the wall, palms sliding down slowly, "d..don't you dare go anywhere...Captain..." Sam leaned against the wall, pressing his weeping cock hard - God he'd never wanted to come so badly.

Dean's face jerked up. Straightening, he aligned himself, and reached around to close his fist around Sam's cock. "You win." Not a control freak, he thought smugly as he pumped Sam's cock a few times, got him going and started to push inside. He was wet and tight around his cock and Dean had to struggle to keep from thrusting all the way in at once. "Fuck... Sam, so fucking tight." He kissed his shoulder, biting it as he pushed again, inching past the tight ring of muscle.

Using his hands to lever him back off the wall Sam slammed himself back on Dean's cock. He curled his hands into fists as the burn faded quickly into pleasure and he leaned his cheek against the cool wall. He tried to talk, say something, but the sounds just kind of came out all jumbled. His head rolled back, lips parted as he moaned out a breath.

White hot heat scorched Dean as he found himself buried to the hilt, deep inside his brother. "Oh God..." he groaned, pulling back and slamming himself back inside, closing his eyes as Sam clenched around him. "Fuck Sam... I'm so hard..." Swallowing, he started to move, to thrust slowly, until he found the right angle, and then he started to fuck. "Oh yeah," he groaned against Sam's ear, fucking harder and harder, pumping and squeezing him, whispering how good it felt, how hard it was for him to wait now, to make it last.

The words, the whispers against his ear went straight to Sam's cock. He couldn't get any harder and every hard fuck into his ass sent Sam's cock sliding through his brother's grip. His dick ached, caught between his stomach and the cool metal and Dean's hand and he was losing the ability to even make sense of how good it felt. He gave what he got, pushing his fists hard against the wall to thrust back against Dean's cock, so hard, so hot. Forehead resting against the wall, back arched, Sam's heart bounced around in his chest as he tried to keep breathing.

He started to fuck Sam so hard, he had to put one hand up against the wall, his palm pillowing Sam's face each time he was shoved up too hard against the wall. Dean couldn't slow down if he wanted, not to save his life. The sound of their bodies slapping together, their heavy breaths, and their groans pushed him closer to the edge. "Oh God... close, Sam," he grunted, pushing into hims again and again, throwing his head back as waves of heat crashed over him. He was wound so tight... so fucking tight, he knew he was gonna lose it any moment. He tried to concentrate on pleasuring Sam, on stroking him just right, but the feedback didn't allow him to distance himself from it.

It was kind of like being trapped in a tornado of wanting, needing and lust. Sam couldn't tell where he began and Dean ended. "Dean...yes..." Sam hissed out the words, writhing between the wall and his brother.

"Now... Come... Now," Dean demanded, his balls drawing painfully tight up against his body, his breath catching for an instant, and then releasing. "Fuck..." Slipping his hand away from Sam's face, Dean slapped the wall, "yeah.... fuck... yeah..."

Sam's hips bucked forward, his body reacting to Dean's words without his brain even needing to think about it. He cried out, his ass clenching around his brother's cock as warmth flooded into him. Arms collapsing under his weight and the power of Dean's thrusts Sam's dick throbbed and pulsed out his release as he moaned against the wall, hand reaching up to slide over Dean's.

"That's it... that's it Sammy," Dean crooned, their hands jointly still moving over Sam as he continued to slowly thrust into him. "That's it..." He kept moving, kept whispering until peace settled around both of them. Pulling out slowly, he turned Sam around and searched his face. Lust blown eyes, flushed cheeks, mussed up wet hair... and swollen lips, made his gut clench all over again with need. "Perfect... you're so perfect..." he kissed him, pulling him slowly backwards to the bad. "Love you Sam. The Sam I remember... and you," his lips quirked at the strangeness of what he said.

Feeling the bed behind him,he turned them around and pushed Sam on the bed, following him, crawling over him and kissing him again. "Mine, because Mom gave you to me." He kissed him again, and lifted his head. "Mine, because in this big universe, in a world of Telepaths that I thought I hated, I found you." He kissed him one last time. "Mine... because I say so," he said, chuckling as he rolled over, taking Sam with him. "And yes, that's a fucking order. Don't argue."

Laughing quietly Sam settled his body against Dean's, the rise and fall of their chests almost in sync. "I'm yours because I say so." Sam grinned through his hair and slid off Dean's chest to settle under his arm. "That was ... yeah... can we do that every night?" Sam chuckled softly, "you know - if you're not too old to keep up."

Still smiling Sam reached up and pulled one of the medallions off over his head. Pushing himself up he slid a leg over Dean's thighs and straddled his hips; leaning down Sam looped the medallion over Dean's head and slid the strap down, smoothing his palms over Dean's hair, neck and settling the medallion against his brother's chest. Bending at the waist he pressed his lips to Dean's then pulled back slightly, "it kept me sane." Sam's palm pressed the small circle of metal hard into Dean's flesh, as he slanted his mouth over his brother's. He would never tire of it, never, the smooth, slick lips, the warmth that wrapped round his heart. "Love you," he whispered, and slid back to curl up against Dean's side.

A feeling of peace settled around Dean. He put his own palm against Sam's chest over his medallion, looking down at him. "I know the feeling." Which was the only reason he hadn't pried his medallion from Sam when he'd first seen his brother wearing both of them. He ran his thumb back and forth over Sam's swollen mouth. "Me too. Love you." It was strange, how he didn't have to force the words out. Maybe it was because he knew Sam probably snatched them right out of his head and already knew. "Dreams... share 'em with me," he asked, now trailing his fingers up and down Sam's abs and chest. "They're better than any porn I ever saw," he grinned.

Lips twitching into a smile against Dean's chest, Sam mumbled, "your wish is my command," he nipped at the warm skin by his mouth then nuzzled it sleepily.

* * *

The news that Captain Dean Winchester had taken a partner, a Telepath, the Telepath Sam Wessen who'd broken into his mind, took Space Corps personnel by surprise. Since most of his missions required the assignment of a Telepath, and with Space Corps' policy of trying to keep families together when possible, more often than not, Sam was assigned to the same missions as his partner, Dean. There were times when they went on separate missions, but they managed to work it out so that if there were extended assignments, one could visit the other.

They were very different. One of them hard, trained to keep his feelings inside, under lock and key, sometimes harsh, disciplined and almost always expecting obedience. The other a free spirit, refusing to be told what to do but knowing how to finess it so that everything did not lead to an argument, and who liked... no needed to share his feelings.

But despite their differences, at core, they were the same. Loyal and bound by ties that went beyond what most people could see or understand.

*

[3 Weeks after return to earth]

On Earth, they'd attended many memorials for the colonists who'd died on Aragon. There had been debriefings and interviews. And there was guilt... survivor's guilt. Dean refused counseling, and dealt with it, the way he always dealt with it. Compartmentalizing the feelings of guilt, cutting himself off from it, and pretending it was no longer there.

On the other hand, he tried to let Sam talk about what happened, knowing that was how his brother dealt with things. But Sam could read him well and knew that he was doing it for him, even called him on it. Dean merely shrugged, it was natural for him to try to help Sam.

He'd shown Sam their parents' last house, now his house though he rarely stayed there, their pictures, and then they'd gone to some of the places they both remembered. The trip to the house where he'd lost Sam had been painful to both of them. Walking that dock had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. There had been tears... both of them had cried in silence, alone... yet together.

And now Sam had wanted to see their parents' graves. Dean brought him to the cemetery, pointed out the the area where the elder Winchesters were buried, but stayed far, his shoulders squared, his face a hard mask.

Sam reached up and curled his hand around the back of Dean's neck, squeezing softly and then began the walk towards where his parents were buried. Glancing back over his shoulder as he reached them, he felt his brother's tension and the underlying sadness. Dean was standing in the cemetery only because of Sam. It was how things worked between them sometimes.

Sam had brought a single rose for his mother. He remembered her face more clearly now thanks to Dean's memories and dreams. He kneeled and laid the rose across her grave and smiled. He wished that he could have known both his parents. They'd made some hard decisions, sending a child away couldn't have been easy even for a Military man. Things could have ended up so differently for Sam and Dean if they'd been raised in the same house. Taking a deep breath, Sam turned and began the walk back to his brother, his life.

Dean had been looking away but he felt Sam's approach and turned. He looked so calm, so... at peace with them. Dean didn't understand how that could be, how he could have forgiven them already, but that was Sam's way, he accepted it. When they were only a couple feet from each other, he wet his lips. "Did you... get what you're looking for?"

Shrugging, Sam reached for Dean's hand. "I wasn't really looking for anything, well," he smiled, "not anymore anyway." He hooked a finger in the cord holding Dean's pendent and pulled him in for a kiss. There were a lot of things that Sam could have wanted from the parents that he'd never really known, but, honestly - he had the person right in front of him that meant the most. He let his hand fall and stepped back, "ready to go?"

A lump rose in Dean's throat. He nodded. He'd been ready from the moment they'd arrived. "Let's go home, Sammy." His hand closed around Sam's, and with each step that he and his brother took away from the graves, a little more peace settled into his heart.

 

[8 months later]

Sitting at a table in the nice restaurant, Dean looked up, his eyes filling with amusement as Sam was marched over to him by six of his men. Sam didn't look all that amused. Ah, there would be good make-up sex tonight, Dean was determined to make it so.

Wiping all traces of a smile from his face when the men arrived, he dismissed them and was left with Sam. "You said you'd finish you session at 8. It's 9." He saw anger flare in Sam's eyes, oh that temper. "You're going away for two weeks, I think dinner is more important than what's his name having to deal with his fear of four legged animals, don't you?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair slowly, trying to get a handle on his temper. God, he could swear that Dean tried to annoy him sometimes. Hell, he knew Dean did it deliberately. But seriously, while he was working? There had to be some limits to what Sam had to put up with. "Proud of yourself, Dean?" Sam's lips were pressed into a thin line, "you interrupted a very productive session I was having. You do know the universe doesn't revolve around your ass don't you?"

"Not what you were telling me last night." Dean got up and pulled Sam's chair away from the table. "Come on Sam, we have five hours. you don't really want to spend it arguing or ... making a scene, do you?"

Arms folded tightly across his chest, muscle twitching in his jaw, Sam huffed out a breath and sat down. "You're so lucky I love you," he muttered, letting Dean push his chair in. There was a slight smile tugging up the corner of his mouth by the time Dean returned to his own seat.

"Can't argue with that." Dean looked at Sam under his lashes as he sat down. A moment later, the waiter brought the drinks that Dean had already ordered. Knowing it might tick off Sam, Dean quickly said, "you can order something else if that's not what you wanted."

"S'fine," Sam muttered, reaching out for his mug of beer, the condensation was already beading on the sides of the cool glass. "Five hours, huh?" Sam took a deep breath and looked over at Dean. They both hated the going away although they both enjoyed their jobs - liked doing what they'd been trained to do.

Dean gave a half shrug. "Price you pay for being the 'go to' person for 'hard asses.'" He pushed the menu over to Sam and grinned. "It's possible I may be able to jump over if the job goes over two weeks."

"Can't stay away from me, huh?" Sam reached out for the menu, his face softening a little more with each moment he sat at the table. He shook his head and looked off to the side for a moment, fighting the grin that was appearing on his face. Sometimes, being a Tel made it impossible to stay mad when he wanted to be. Dean would never admit it to anyone but he had a playful side and it flowed over Sam.

Dean gave a grunt of agreement. "I have business in the Gamma quadrant... or will, if I play my cards right." He wasn't above manipulating circumstances to get himself assigned where he needed or wanted to be. "Is that a smile... smile for me, Sammy." He waggled his brows. "You know you want to."

Giving up, Sam licked his lips and let his smile grow. "For crying out loud, lemme choose my food. I'm starving." But - even as he said it Sam stretched his legs out under the table to settle against either side of Dean's. His brow relaxed and he ran his eyes quickly over the menu. God. Sam made sure he was focused on the words in front of him and not the gorgeous face across the table.

"Fine. As long as we're having dessert back at our place. I'm thinking some of this..." he brushed his knee up Sam's inner thigh, "and ice cream. So leave some room. Oh Sam, if you're having trouble thinking... you might want the steak and potatoes. Just a suggestion." He'd been smart and read the menu before Sam came, before they started distracting each other.

They bantered over dinner, talked a little about work but mostly teased each other... it was foreplay... they didn't have that much time before Sam had to leave. Once they got to their quarters on the space station, Dean pushed Sam up against the wall and let his body do the talking for him, persuading his lover, his partner, to pack later. It wasn't too difficult, not once he had his hand down Sam's pants.

A few hours later, Dean sat in his shorts and tee, holding a mug of coffee and watching Sam finish his packing. Funny... a year ago he'd have thought anyone who implied he needed someone, anyone in his life, was a head case. He liked to be alone. But now... now it was a bit like missing a part of himself when Sam was gone for too long.

Pushing his shower-damp hair off his forehead, Sam zipped up his gear bag and moved over to slide to the floor at Dean's feet. Kneeling, Sam slid his splayed fingers up Dean's thighs, smiling up at him. "Not too long apart, right?" It was always hard leaving Dean. Sam wondered how many times he would have to leave before he stopped feeling Dean's fingers slipping out of his like they had so many years before.

"No, not too long," Dean agreed, leaning in and slanting his mouth over Sam's, kissing him tenderly, memorizing his taste... his scent. He sucked on Sam's lower lip as he pulled away, "you'll be kept so busy it'll go by in the blink of an eye." As he spoke, he reached for the strand around his own neck and pulled his medallion off, waiting for Sam to dip his head down and then put it on Sam.

Each time they were apart, one of them kept both medallions together, like they'd always been. Dean figured it meant that either the other person had to come collect his sometime, or the one wearing both had to return in order to give the spare one back.

"Love you Sam," he said thickly, this time cupping his face with both hands as he kissed him again, more fiercely. Mine.

Sam's hands lifted to cover Dean's, then slide up his forearms slowly. Yours. The weight of the medallions was heavy against his chest and his heart flipped a little as he kissed Dean back.

When they broke the kiss, Dean ran his hand through Sam's wet hair, then gave him a nod. He might hate seeing Sam leave, but he knew he was coming back. It wasn't like at the docks... it just wasn't.

He watched Sam pick up his bags, swinging the strap over his shoulder, and determinedly walking to the door. Once Sam walked through it, Dean called out, "I expect viewscreen sex!" His lover stumbled into the public hallway but didn't turn back as the doors wooshed shut. Dean hoped it put a smile on Sam's face, he certainly was wearing one at the thought of Sam's reaction.

THE END


End file.
